


An experiment’s rise

by Adrastos



Category: Lilo & Stitch (2002)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Introspection, Politics, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 18:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 75,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16792366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrastos/pseuds/Adrastos
Summary: Created illegally and supposed to be a monster, Experiment 626 wants to do good in the galaxy. But how’s he supposed to do that when half the Federation thinks he’s an abomination? And amid all that, how’s an Experiment supposed to cope with a vengeful creator hell-bent on unleashing anarchy?





	1. Birth

_-Kweltik system, 2:00 Turo Standard Time-_  
For the first time in his life, Experiment 626 awoke. Eyes closed and curled into a tiny ball, the newly created experiment had just gained his sense of hearing for the first time when he heard a set of heavy footfalls advancing. The sound stopped perhaps a meter and a half out from 626, replaced by an inquisitive voice.

“Can it be? …Have I done it?” The voice was saying.

  
As if in response, Experiment 626 uncurled himself and let out a yawn. Opening his eyes, 626 saw four sets of hands. Gazing down at them, it suddenly clicked that they were his. 626 let out a little “oooh” of excitement-he was alive! He looked out, wanting to take in all of his surroundings. It was evident that he was in some sort of container, perhaps because he was newly created.

  
As 626 gazed around at his surroundings, he eventually noticed the large, four-eyed being staring down at him. _Ah,_ he thought, _a Kweltikwan. My creator, perhaps?_ How he knew this he had no idea, nor how he knew that he was artificially created; 626 imagined that he was simply programmed with this knowledge in. 626 gave a grunt of recognition to show that he had noticed his observer, and then proceeded to examine himself. _Paws seem strong,_ he thought, _I could probably stand on the bottom two._ He proceeded to test his theory out, and was delighted to find he was right.

  
Unfortunately, the Kweltikwan did not share his enthusiasm. Gazing down on 626, his cautious optimism dropped into a frown. “So cute…so…fluffy, even.” When 626 got up on his paws and sniffed at the side of the glass, hoping to get more of a feel for his compatriot, the Kweltikwan gasped as though the experiment had performed some unseemly act.  
“Blitznak!” he yelled. “WHERE THE HELL DID I GO WRONG?” He looked at 626 for another second, and was seized with disgust. He cursed again, and slammed down his fists on the top of the container with a thud.

  
626 leapt back as though the fists had hit him. “Gaba?” _What?_ He asked. “Gaba smick?” _What’s wrong?_

  
Chest heaving, the Kweltikwan looked at 626. Forcing a smile on his face, he said. “Nothing is wrong. Merely surprised me.” 626 looked incredulous, so he continued. “Your name is Experiment 626. Isn’t that nice?”

  
626 nodded. “Meega…626.” _I’m…626._ He thought for a moment. “Bo Chifa! Cama'ahar Teh Tebracres?” _I like it! What’s your name?_  
“My name is Doctor Jumba Jookiba. I am your creator.” Walking past 626, Jumba pulled out a large extension cord from a compartment behind his container. “Now, my creation, I imagine that you want to get out of there as soon as possible. I want you out as well, but first we must charge your molecules. Is most important part.”

  
Jumba plugged the cord into 626’s container, then looked down at his feet. He hunched his shoulders for a moment, as if steeling himself for something, and then returned his gaze to his creation.

  
“626…” He began.

  
“Gaba?” 626 wondered if he had done something wrong.

  
“Do you want to destroy things? I mean, would destroying buildings and armies be an enjoyable experience?”

  
626 closed his eyes and thought. After a few seconds, he opened them again. “Quan? Naga. Meega Naga Queesta.” _Destruction? No. I don’t want to destroy._

  
Jumba folded his hands behind his back to keep 626 from noticing how clenched they were. “Not even a little bit?”

  
“Naga.”

  
Jumba sighed. “I see. Can you at least speak basic? I understand you alright, but if you could communicate in same language as rest of the galaxy it would be easier.”

  
“Naga. Meega nala robaapaskit, pano…” _No. I will learn, but…_  
Jumba shook his head. “Is shame, really. Destruction was to be your primary goal in life. I designed you to be unstoppable war machine, but it appears that I slipped up somehow.” Seeing the look on 626’s face, he waved his hands. “Nevermind, is all good, don’t worry about it.”

  
626 wasn’t convinced, but then again, he was still young, what did he know? He sat back on his container, feeling the warm floor. He had no idea how this was supposed to be “charging his molecules” or whatever, but he could tell something was happening.

  
Both 626 and Jumba lapsed into silence. This is almost relaxing, 626 thought. Perhaps I could get used to this. Now that he thought about it, he was actually somewhat tired: his body was still getting used to its’ normal functions, a process that was proving rather exhausting. Before long, 626 closed his eyes and attempted to sleep.

  
Jumba, for his part, was deep in thought. Why couldn’t 626 speak basic? He could understand it just fine, so it clearly didn’t have to do with anything brain related. Or did it? And, more pressingly, why was Experiment 626 acting in a way that was so contrary to his programming? Everything else had come together so perfectly, Jumba felt, that this had to be nothing more than a simple glitch. Something he could iron out. It had to be.  
In the meantime, Jumba needed to enter into 626’s log. He turned back to his experiment, and, seeing that he was sleeping, turned on the lab’s computer. Pulling out his keyboard, Jumba began to write:

  
**LOG ENTRY: 25  
DATE: 5-27-3620**

**Completed work on Experiment 626 today and managed to successfully awaken him. Subject appears to be exactly according to physical specifications, albeit somewhat fluffier than intended. Slight defects exist in speech, as Experiment 626 is unable to speak Galactic Basic despite possessing adequate linguistic comprehension. This, I feel, should prove simple to fix.  
Mentally, however, Experiment 626 could be considered completely defective. Subject shows no inclination towards his intended programming-and indeed dismissed to prospect of galactic-scale destruction entirely when asked-and appears to possess a completely mellow disposition. This is unacceptable.  
I must find a way to fix 626’s personality! I have sunk too much into his creation to start anew. 626 will become the bioweapon I desire. **

  
Unbeknownst to Jumba his typing had roused his creation, and he was curious as to what the scientist would be typing in. Whatever it was, 626 had the feeling it was about him-perhaps simply a record of the fact that he had been successfully created? This was probably it, and yet 626 couldn’t help but wonder: Jumba hadn’t seemed all that satisfied with his creation, particularly in the personality department.

  
_Maybe,_ 626 thought to himself, _it wouldn’t hurt to take a quick look some time._  
But before he could think up any ways to get out of his container, his exhaustion reared its ugly head again and he fell back asleep.


	2. Modifications

_-Kweltik system, 13:00 Turo Standard Time-_

626 woke from his slumber to the sound of excited tapping. He opened his eyes, saw that Jumba was tapping (banging, more like, 626 thought) the side of his container, and flipped up onto his feet. Jumba was grinning, which 626 took as a good sign.

“Gaba?” _What?_ He asked.

“626! I have solution for speech problem! I know why you cannot speak basic!”

626 tilted his head, unsure of what Jumba meant.

“Upon looking back over your specifications, it appears that I erred in creation of your vocal tract-it cannot completely close, so you have more trouble with certain sounds than is normal. But not to worry! Is easy fix! All I need to do is operate on you and you will be able to speak basic as easy as anyone!” Jumba turned away from his creation and began to leave, but before he left the room the Kweltikwan turned around. “Don’t worry, 626. Is perfectly safe and easy procedure practiced across the entire galaxy. I just need to set up, won’t take me more than ten minutes, and we can begin.”

And with that, 626 was left alone in his container. If he was being honest he didn’t really see the need for any sort of modifications, but he supposed there was no risk in undergoing what was supposedly a perfectly normal procedure. And, now that he thought about it, he could use this: for an operation to occur, Jumba would have to open up the container in order to move him. If 626 could use this to figure out how the container opened and close, perhaps he could find a way to manually engage the process and get at that log. Sure, it would probably break some rule or another, but 626 supposed Jumba might actually be enthused at the idea that his creation wasn’t completely on the straight and narrow.  
Resolved to not waste this opportunity, 626 sat back and waited for Jumba to come back. Just as the Kweltikwan had promised, about ten minutes later he bustled back into the lab with a smile on his face. Launching into an explanation about the surgery he was about to perform (an explanation his creation quickly tuned out in order to focus better on the container), he pressed a button on the table 626 was being kept on. With a light fwip the container opened from the top and slid into the table. Jumba plucked his creation, who had noticed the process and resolved to examine the top of the container more closely, and carried him into a side room. As he walked, Jumba continued on his explanation.

“Now 626, this procedure will be very painful, as it will require me to open your throat up and perform my work manually. I will also have to strap you to operating table, so that any involuntary movements-I will put you under, of course, for surgery-on your part do not interfere with my work. Do you understand?”

626, who had managed to tune himself in for the last bit, nodded, and turned his mind back to the puzzle of the container. Before he could figure out a proper way to get it to open by himself, however, Jumba entered the operation room. After placing 626 on the operating table, he went over to a control panel on the side.

“626, please stretch your arms out on your sides so that they parallel each other in straight lines, and once you have done so do the same with your feet. Pease hold all six of your limbs steady for me.”

626 did so, and was somewhat surprised when Jumba pressed a button that caused six iron clamps to pop out of the table and restrain him in place. Forgetting what Jumba had said on the walk in, he began to struggle.

Jumba shook his head. “None of that, my experiment. Remember: these are for own good. Settle down, for I must administer the gas before we start. And don’t worry, the gas is simple anesthetic. Sure, it’ll put you out for a few hours, but is not deadly. Again, 626, this is normal. In a few hours, you’ll wake up back in your container with wonderful new speech abilities.

 _Gas_? 626 thought to himself. Before he could react, an oxygen mask dropped down from a node in the ceiling and fixed itself on his face. 626 felt a light tickling sensation: from what he could tell, some sort of gas was being pushed through the tube the oxygen mask was connected to and into his mouth. Suddenly, inexplicably, 626 felt himself going to sleep.  
As he drifted off, the last thing he heard was Jumba talking to himself.

“Now, if only destructive programming was as easy to install as speech”.

Before 626 could react, he was back asleep.

_-Kweltik System, 17:00 Turo Standard Time-_

626 groaned, the very action of speech setting an unpleasant jolt of pain down his throat. His eyes flicked open, and again he saw Jumba observing him.

“Operation was a success, 626. Vocal surgery has been completed, and you are healing far faster than expected. Perhaps I programmed you with enhanced healing abilities. Who knew?” Jumba chuckled. “I guess evil geniuses can even surprise selves.”

With another groan, one that 626 was pleasantly surprised to find was a bit less painful than just a minute earlier, 626 lurched to his feet. Rubbing his eyes with one set of hands and messaging his throat with the other, he decided to test out his new capabilities.

“Meega…I…speak…basic?” Immediately, 626 stopped rubbing his eyes. Sure, speaking basic hurt like hell, but he could actually do it!

Jumba was ecstatic. “YES!” He cried. “Another first! Is one for the logs!” And with that, Jumba once again turned to his computer and pulled up the logbook.

As he typed, 626 took a closer look at the container. Quietly, 626 place his hands on the side and attempted to find purchase enough to climb. Once he did so, he maneuvered to the top and examined the apex of the glass dome. As it turned out, upon close inspection the container had a slight seam down the middle, small enough to be almost unnoticeable but large enough that 626 felt sure he could stick his claw in and try to wedge it open. Before he could try, however, Jumba snapped his fingers, startling 626 into falling back down. Hastily standing back up, he saw Jumba coming back over with a sheepish look on his face and carrying some sort of clear fluid.

“Forgive me,” said Jumba, “In all the excitement I just realized that you haven’t eaten yet”. The Kweltikwan pressed another button on the table that opened up the top of the container somewhat, and passed the clear fluid down to his creation. “This should sate appetite for next day-is my own special mix for when I’m too busy working to eat! I also warmed it up to help your throat out, as I imagine that it still hurts?”

626 nodded, and took a sip of the fluid. It tasted good, and as it washed down his throat he felt some of the pain and discomfort fade. Feeling both better and slightly stronger, he decided to ask his creator a question.

“Jumba?” He began.

“Yes, 626? Is there problem?”

“Naga-no. Sorry, still not used to Basic. I just want to know-when will you let meega-me, sorry-out of here?”

Jumba’s face fell. “In good time, 626, in good time. There is still one more…modification… I want to make.”

- _The destructive programming?_ 626 thought.

At that point, Jumba made some excuse about having to eat himself and suddenly being very tired, and then left 626 to his own devices.

Once the door to the lab closed, the lights dimmed until 626 could barely see across the room. “Not very accommodating,” he grumbled. Well, he supposed, now was as good a time as any to see about that seam. Quietly, as to not draw Jumba back with any undue noises, 626 climbed back up the side. Once at the top, he gripped the side of the container with both feet and his secondary pair of limbs and attempted to force his fingers into the seam. Gradually he was able to force all eight of his fingers in, and, quite pleased with himself, began to pry at the container. After several minutes of effort and grunting as quietly as was physically possible, the container popped open. 626 hopped out, gently leapt to the floor, and creeped over to the computer Jumba had made his logs on. 626 activated the monitor and opened the logbook, reading the most recent entry.

It was quite short:

**LOG ENTRY: 26  
DATE: 2-27-3620  
Surgery was a success, and Experiment 626 can now speak basic as easily as tantalog. Also, he shows a capacity for healing that, although not programmed intentionally, is a good surprise.  
With this problem solved, I can move on to my bigger concern: how to restore Experiment 626’s original programming. Again, I must retrieve it at all costs! 626 must become the instrument of destruction I intended!  
I shall type more later-it has just dawned on me that 626 has not eaten since he was created. Although food deprivation and similar acts (plus perhaps physical pain) could perhaps cultivate ideal behavioral changes in Experiment 626, I do not wish to go this route if I can avoid it.**

626’s heart sank: just as he had feared, Jumba wanted him to become a monster.  
As if in denial, 626 decided to surf the earlier logs for more information. Maybe one contained something different, something he could use to persuade Jumba to let him stay as is? Going back to the earliest logs, 626 found one entitled “Experiment 626-overview, goals” and decided to read it.

**LOG ENTRY: 4  
DATE: 12-30-3618**

(626 paused and noted that, evidently, he had been in the works for quite some time. It was somewhat flattering, oddly enough)

**Having tracked down c.66% of the genetic material I intend for my creation, I feel that, going forwards, I must have a concrete plan in place for the end. This is still a woefully inexact science, and thus I have little room to make things up as a go. As such, I shall now proceed with the following aims:  
SUBJECT NAME: Experiment 626  
DESIRED PHYSICAL TRAITS: Deceptively small, perhaps furry (in order to cultivate sense of ease amongst potential enemies). Bipedal with at least one set of functioning arms, perhaps more if feasible. Spines, again if feasible, only if they can serve a purpose. Immunity to as many types of conventional weaponry as possible. Strength far above average for body size  
DESIRED MENTAL TRAITS: Cunning, able to outthink a supercomputer (note that this may take time to come online, and will like as not first manifest as simply an expanded capacity for learning). Must possess a disposition most would call “evil”; 626 is to be my instrument of destruction against this thrice-damned galaxy, and although I must make sure to cultivate in 626 loyalty towards his creator I want him to view the prospect of galaxy-wide havoc and violence as an exciting one.  
DESIGNATED TARGETS: The Galactic Federation, shall, of course, be my main target. If possible, I would like to program 626 to-**

626 stopped, unable to read any further. One thing was clear: Jumba wanted to use him as a weapon against this “Galactic Federation”, and (626 gave a nervous glance around as if Jumba was spying on him) would like as not keep his creation trapped until he could devise a way to instill the capacity and desire for destruction necessary for that purpose.

626 clenched his fists-there was no way in hell he was going to let that happen! He took a deep breath, and then turned back to the computer: it was time to take a look around the lab and nearby space. After all, if one wanted to escape right under their creator’s nose, it never hurt to be prepared.


	3. Flight

_-Kwelitk System, 20:00 Turo Standard Time-_

626 backed out of the logbook, hoping to snoop around the compute for useful information. On the home screen, he noted several options that seemed pertinent: _Map_ , _Laboratory Information_ , and _Encyclopedia Galactica._ Deciding that escaping would be meaningless if he didn’t have a destination, 626 clicked on Map. 

With a soft whirr (626 froze, listening for Jumba), the monitor brought up an image of what 626 guessed was the entire galaxy. He had just a moment or two to take it all in before the image zoomed in to a quadrant to the slight upper-left of the center, zooming into a planet called Kweltikwan. Just to the right of the planet was a little asteroid, on which was a building 626 assumed was Jumba’s lab. 

After noting how much of a miracle it was that Jumba had never been caught with a base so close to what looked to be a major planet in a quadrant rather near the center of the galaxy, 626 decided to look at nearby planets. Obviously he wanted to avoid anything in the local system, so upon figuring out the “zoom” and “select” functions 626 decided to peruse the local stellar neighborhood.

Configuring the map to only show ‘inhabited’ systems, 626 set to work finding a destination. A red-marked planet about 2 parsecs away caught his eye: red was an appealing color. Unfortunately, the system (designated the Saiccano system) itself was less appealing: 

_Habitable, the description read, but only on the third planet, which is still young. Volcanic activity has kept population totals down to a mere 500 million, mostly concentrated in a thin band near the relatively-inactive northern pole._

Nixing this system, 626 went back out. The next system he chose was relatively close to Saiccano, only about a parsec to the right.  
_Gapra: Habitable. System is a designated research area by the United Galactic Federation, which maintains a research station on Gapra III. Entry and exit to the Gapra system is closely monitored._

_Going to the people that Jumba wanted me to fight._ 626 smiled. _Now THERE’s an idea._

Still, after his experiences with his creator 626 thought it best to avoid scientists for the time being. Heading out of the map function for a moment, still listening for Jumba, 626 clicked on the Encyclopedia Galactica. Upon being confronted with a ‘please enter term you with to learn about’ bar, 626 typed in ‘Galactic Federation’ and read the summary. 

_The United Galactic Federation, headquartered on planet Turo, Turo system, is the governing body under which the Milky Way Galaxy Operates. Founded in the year 1298, at present roughly 89% of the galaxy is under the jurisdiction of the Federation, divided into over 8,000 star systems at the federal level. Law and order throughout the federation is kept by the Federation Council, which consists of 8,741 representatives of the various star systems, and the Galactic Armada, the largest military force in recorded history._

626 made up his mind: the Galactic Federation seemed to be the people to go to in the galaxy, even besides a poetic irony involved in seeking the help of those Jumba had intended for him to destroy. With this in mind, 626 returned to the Map function, memorized the coordinates for planet Turo, and began research into how to best escape Jumba’s lab. 

Fortunately, the Laboratory Information option was a veritable goldmine. Jumba had neatly organized it into ten folders meticulously organized by subject, and third down from the top was a folder marked Lab Security. Upon clicking on it, the first thing that came up was a dossier containing all of the precautions Jumba had taken. The most concerning in 626’s opinion were the steps Jumba had taken to restrict flights all around his lab: most of the asteroids surrounding the lab had been mined with some sort of net 626 surmised was for capturing errant ships. The area around the lab also had a large gravity well, one that would entrap smaller spacecraft (like, perhaps, one a genetic experiment would use in an escape attempt) and notify the lab when the spacecraft was rendered immobile. 

626 rather wished to avoid both these options, and out of curiosity wondered if Jumba would be foolish enough to have placed some sort of toggle switch for his security measures in the Lab Security Folder. Much to his shock 626 actually found what he was looking for and, upon reflecting that for a credible genius his creator certainly possessed a remarkable number of lapses in judgement, promptly turned off what he could. The gravity well was safely switched off, and although the farther areas of the net remained active at least their activation would no longer inform the lab. 

Next on the list of problems was how to get out of the lab, but thankfully once again Jumba and his organizational skills/judgement lapses provided an early solution: after about twenty minutes of searching 626 discovered that there was a garage situated at the base of the asteroid, in which was a small, red ship 626 imagined had been meant for him-it looked fast and maneuverable enough that he could easily imagine someone using it to flit from system to system as they raised hell.   
_No sense wasting what Jumba got me_ , 626 thought. He turned to sneak out of the lab, but stopped. _I should probably cover my tracks somehow._ Returning to the computer monitor, 626 returned to the Map function and clicked the “clear history” option. After doing the same for the Encyclopedia Galactica, 626 decided he was good and stole out of the lab.

  
*** 

Sneaking as quietly as possible, 626 made his way down to the garage. As he entered the lights snapped on, and 626 stopped in awe-the garage was less a “garage” and more a “hangar” holding what appeared to be a repurposed convoy ship (painted bright red; 626 suspected he wasn’t the only one in the lab fond of that color) and several medium-sized transport vehicles in addition to the small ship 626 had discovered earlier. Creeping over to his chosen vessel, 626 pried open the cockpit and hopped inside. On the seat was a red jumpsuit that, judging by the fact that it just so happened to fit his body perfectly, 626 guessed had been another intended gift. After putting it on, 626 turned his attention to the dashboard. He flicked a switch labeled “power”, and with a soft hum the ship came to life. After taking a minute or so to familiarize himself with the controls, 626 began to try and find out how to surpass the final obstacle between him and freedom: the hangar door. Mumbling to himself, 626 looked around the cockpit. 

“Maybe the red button on the left here?” He pressed it, and felt a thump beneath the ship. _Cannon engage fail_ , a feminine-sounding voice informed him. 626 rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the head up. Maybe the one next to it?” He imagined that anything involving the engine would be a little closer to the seat, for easy access. 

The next button he pressed gave a loud honk. 626 leapt out of his seat, heart pounding, sure that Jumba had heard.

“Blitznak!” he cursed. “What button is it?” Looking at the set of buttons on the dash, 626 noticed one showing three quarter-circles around a small-circle in the middle. He pressed it, and was rewarded with the ship’s voice saying _Communication activated. Communicate with Lab Wifi or Garage Controls?_

626 whooped. Finally, progress! “Garage Controls!” 

_Please issue command_ , the voice continued. 

“Uh, open garage door!” 

The door complied, opening with a dreadful clang. Not wanting to gamble with whether or not Jumba had heard, 626 gunned the engine and burst out. As he passed in front of the lab he craned his neck, and saw that the lights were on in the upper parts of the lab. 

Clearly, his escape had been noticed, but 626 didn’t care: the sensation of flying, of being free for the first time in his (admittedly short) life was overpowering. As 626 sped away from the lab, away from Jumba and his plots, he began to laugh. 

Out of nowhere, three ship-lengths in front of him, a yellow pulse appeared. The net! 626 slammed on the break, tilting the joystick as to angle his ship downwards and kill all his momentum. Once the ship was angled a good 100 degrees, 626 started the engine again and flew down. Another pulse activated, but this time 626 was ready. He angled his ship up and flew over the pulse, before snapping sideways to avoid colliding with a third. 

On the edge of his seat, 626 continued to twist and writhe his way forwards. Even though he had managed to disable a good portion of the net, a simple fact dawned on him: space was large. REALLY large. 

Even half a net was still pretty damn extensive, particularly for someone less than a day old. After banking a hard left for the fifth time, 626 cursed himself for his stupidity. Once he made it to a safe spot, he cut the engine and gazed out at the path ahead. Admittedly, things did not look rosy: as far as 626 could see ahead of him, it was more of the same. Giving the engine a tiny bit of juice he turned around, looking back at the way he came. The lab, he noticed, was tiny: 626 estimated that he was about 70 percent of the way through the net. Taking a grim pleasure at that thought, he turned back around and braced himself for the last run out. 

“Gotta do this,” he said, “I need to make it out. I can’t go back. Not if it means becoming a monster.” 

626 took a deep breath, and then started forwards.

  
Back at the lab, Jumba rushed downstairs. 626 couldn’t have gotten out, he thought, is impossible! Still, some tiny part of him was filled with dread that his experiment had guessed Jumba intended to rewrite his programming and promptly decided to escape. Open entering the lab, this dread was proven correct. Jumba stared in horror at the popped container, mouth open.   
The Kweltikwan began to shake. How could 626? How could he defy his own creator, the one who had given him life, in such a way? Jumba shook harder and harder, getting more and more enraged, until he could hold it in no longer. 

“YOU DAMNED EXPERIMENT!” He yelled. Jumba tossed on his lab coat and began to sprint down to the garage-even if 626 had left the lab, Jumba knew there was little chance he could get past his security system. A quick look out the window confirmed that the net had activated, and Jumba guessed that his experiment was currently struggling to push through. 

Unfortunately for Jumba, about halfway down to his lab he heard a bang from outside. Frozen, daring to hope that it didn’t mean what he thought it did, Jumba forced himself to look out the window. 

The farthest reaches of the net were no longer active, and as Jumba stared in horror the net winked out closer and closer.   
Between the bang and the net, there was no other explanation: 626 had entered hyperspace, and in the absence of a stabilizing ring the resulting jump wave was scrambling his electronic security. 

Jumba slammed his fists onto the window and roared. 

In the cockpit, Experiment 626 finally relaxed. He had escaped, and was on his way to get help from the authorities. As he gazed out at the hyperspace colors, 626 hoped that the Federation would listen to him. 


	4. Durgon

_-Hyperspace, Turo Standard Time 21:45-_   


626 fidgeted in his seat. Sure, the hyperspace tunnel outside of his cockpit was a marvel to look at, but after half an hour of nothing but interlocking colors smashing into each other he was starting to get seriously bored. And now that he was no longer in constant awe at the display outside, his brain turned to wonder about what would actually happen when he reached his destination. In particular, one question began to nag more and more as he flew along:    


_What if they don’t listen to me?_   


After all, 626 had a feeling that, even in the best of circumstances, the people of an armada as mighty as the Galactic Armada seemed to be wouldn’t exactly scramble a response to unproven allegations from a random guy such as himself, let alone allegations from an artificially-created bioweapon.    


_If only I had some sort of proof._ Shaking his head, 626 took a quick look at the little computer monitor in front of him: maybe there was something in there? He booted it up, took a quick peek to make sure he was an autopilot, and then began to browse around for some sort of log.    


So intent was 626 in his search that he failed to notice when, with a boom, his ship exited hyperspace about 4500 miles out from Turo. Such an exit, roughly half an hour out from the planet at max speed for 626’s little ship and those of similar make, did not go unnoticed by the Federation, and the capital ship Durgon entered into standard procedure for such a scenario: attempt to make contact with an unknown approaching vessel, and, if said vessel refuses to respond and/or continues forward dispatch several police cruisers to intercept.    


626 had turned off the ship’s communication features in order to prevent Jumba using them as a tracking beacon, so naturally he failed to make contact with the Durgon. Instead, as the ship tried several times to hail him and subsequently dispatched five police cruisers, he busied himself with his attempts to extract information from the computer he could use to back up his case. What he was finding was not exactly all that useful: as the ship was made for someone far smaller than a Kweltikwan Jumba had never used it, and as such there were no flight logs or related data that proved he was up to no good. 626 was about to give up and just pray that he could convince the Federation on words alone when he noticed a little link in the bottom left of the home page, labeled Guidelines for Experiment 626.    


Excited, 626 selected it, completely oblivious to the five cruisers now deploying from the immense ship about 750 miles to the side.    


The link caused an image of Jumba’s face to appear on the monitor, which promptly began to address his creation:    
__ Experiment 626, if you have found this message it means that you are a success. Doubtless you have little patience for messages such as this that keep you from wreaking havoc, but it never hurts to have guidelines at hand for usage. First off, 626, remember: destruction is not just fun and games: it is your purpose, so go about it in the most efficient way possible-strike fast, hard, but carefully. Naturally this will displease you, but remember: the bigger the scene, the bigger response. You cannot destroy galaxy if Federation throws you in jail.    
Which brings me to my next point-how best to go about galactic-scale destruction that will bring down the Galactic Federation. What I want you to do is…   


As 626 listened, he grew more and more relieved. Sure, the message was horrifying in the extreme, what with its’ plans for mass murder and galactic anarchy, but it was solid proof. Something he could use. Between it and what he had read in the logs back at the lab, 626 felt he had enough to convince the Federation to act.    


With that in mind he turned to take back control of his ship, only to receive the dual shocks that he had both exited hyperspace without noticing and was facing five ships bearing down on him from a massive cruiser. He facepalmed: how had he become so oblivious? Hoping to communicate with the other ships, he slammed the communication button and flipped to “open frequency”.    


“…yourself”, a strict-sounding voice was saying, “unexpected craft. I repeat: Galactic Federation Police Cruiser 1138 commands you to identify yourself. Give your registration number, pilot name, and point of origin.”    


“Forgive me”, 626 replied, “I was focused on other things so my comm was off. Otherwise I would have-”   


“Registration number. Name. Point of Origin. Now.”   


626 shook his head: pushy, this Federation guy. Before responding, 626 thought for half a moment: registration number? He hadn’t seen any, and now that he thought about it it seemed unlikely that Jumba would bother complying with vehicular rules.    
“My name is Experiment 626, and my point of origin-which I’m guessing means where I just hyperspace jumped from-is an asteroid system orbiting planet Kweltikwan.”   


The voice was silent for a moment. When it responded it sounded even sharper, if that was possible.    


“No registration number? You expect us to buy that? And what the hell kind of name is ‘Experiment 626’? Cease with the deflections or we will be forced to consider you a potential hostile.”    


“It’s true!” 626 protested. “I have been unable to find a registration number here, and to be honest I doubt that there is one: the man I took this from wouldn’t have registered it.”   


“Wait-you’re admitting that this is a stolen craft?”   


_You idiot!_ 626 admonished himself. _The hell did you go admitting that for?_   


To his horror, 626 saw that the five police cruisers had all deployed their cannons as one. Clearly, they were running low on patience and were about to fire.    


626 decided to take drastic measures: if they thought he was a criminal, perhaps acting in a way completely the opposite of that would prove constructive? With that in mind, he cut the engine and let himself drift as a show of acquiescence.    


“Right,” he said, “I understand that I most look incredibly suspicious right now, what with the lack of a registration number and a name like ‘Experiment 626’. But I promise that I can explain, and because of that I am willing to submit myself to you. Take me in to that big ship, take me planetside, whichever you prefer. I’m your man-or experiment, rather.”    


For several terrifying seconds there was silence. Then, to 626’s immense relief, the comm crackled back to life. “Understood. Please note that although we are grateful for your compliance, do not take this for trust. Also note that we shall now establish control over your ship via tractor beam from three of our ships, which will pull you back to the G.A.C. Durgon, while the other two ships follow behind with their guns out. Is this clear?”   


626 nodded, remembered that they couldn’t see him, and then responded in the affirmative.    


“Good. With all that out of the way, we shall now proceed back to the Durgon.” 

  
_-Capital Ship Durgon, 22:30-_

Escorted by the five capital ships, Experiment 626 landed in the hanger of the G.A.C. Durgon. After taking a moment to stare in awe at the cavernous space and all the ships around him, 626 opened up his cockpit and sat with his four arms raised above his head. A quintet of dinosaur-like soldiers in stark, white uniforms advanced, pointing their plasma guns at him. The lead advanced to the side of 626’s ship, opened up his helmet, and began speaking.    


“Now, are you going to tell me who you are and just what the hell kind of stunt are you pulling?” He gazed down at 626, gaped for a moment, and then shook his head. “Of course, now that I see you, I sort of understand the ‘experiment’ bit.   
626 nodded, and launched into an explanation about his escape from Jumba’s lab and about the instruction video Jumba had left for him. 

The soldier listened quietly, and then addressed 626. “Is the video still recorded on your ship?”   


“It is. If you watch it, it squares with what I’ve been saying.”   


“ Very well then. If you would, please exit your ship with your hands above your heads so that we can look for ourselves.”   


“Can’t I just pull it up myself?”    


The soldier rolled his eyes. “That would be a no. Security purposes, 626. Now please-exit your craft with your hands above your head.”    


626 complied, and when he exited the ship two soldiers darted forwards with handcuffs. Upon being restrained 626 began to protest, thought better of it, and sat down to wait. The lead soldier watched the message, his expression grim. Upon finishing, he turned to 626. “This certainly would explain some things.”    


“So you believe me?”   


“Personally? More or less. But before you get your hopes up, I need to run this by the captain”. He looked over at a soldier leaning over 626’s computer. “Wheron, extract the video so we can present it to captain Gantu.”    


Wheron nodded, pulled out a small glowing device, plugged it into the computer, and then handed it to the head soldier.   


“Excellent. Now, if you will follow me…” He tapped 626 on the shoulder and then pointed at a door.    


The six set off in silence. After several awkward minutes, 626 looked up at the soldier escorting him.    


“Um… may I ask a question, sir?”   


“Call me Lieutenant Commander Obrea. And you may.”   
“Very well, er, Lieutenant Commander. Why are we going to see this Captain Gantu?”   


“He’s the highest ranked officer present here-he’s in charge of this whole ship. As such, events of this nature ought to be reported to him.”   


“Am I really that big a deal?”   


Obrea stopped and stared down at 626. “Right, don’t take this the wrong way, but you ARE aware of the relevant Federal laws, no? The ones dealing with genetic experiments such as yourself?”   


626 shook his head.    


Obrea took a deep breath. “Well…To be honest, the act of genetic experimentation with the intent to create a new life form is, on its own, highly illegal. Add in the fact that you appear to have been created to cause galaxy-wide anarchy, and your existence probably breaks about a dozen different laws. At least.” He began walking again with renewed haste, suddenly becoming very interested in the wall.    


626 followed behind, horrified. Was he, through the very act of existing, automatically a criminal? What would happen to him?    


Before he could ask more, the soldiers stopped in front of an ornate door labeled  **Bridge** .    


“And now,” Lieutenant Commander Obrea said, “You meet Captain Gantu.”   



	5. Interrogation

_-G.A.C. Durgon, 23:15 Turo Standard Time-_

It had been well over half an hour since Lieutenant Commander Obrea had last radioed in regarding that unidentified craft he’d found loitering around the Turian exosphere, and Captain Gantu was getting impatient. The Durgon served as the shield and sword of the Federation Council, after all, and Gantu needed it run as tight as possible. A lapse in communication as long as Obrea’s was unacceptable, and Gantu had about made up his mind to radio the Lieutenant Commander and tell him to get up to the bridge ASAP or risk being fired when the door security chime sang across the deck.

“About time.” Gantu muttered as he crossed to the door. “This is Captain Gantu,” he said as he pressed the intercom button, “and that had better be you on the other end, Obrea. I’ve been waiting to hear back from you.”

“Apologies, captain.” Even distorted through the speakers on his end, Gantu thought he detected an acceptable amount of contrition in the Lieutenant Commander’s voice. “Circumstances surrounding the wayward cruiser were…unusual, to put it lightly.”

“Unusual enough to justify half an hour without communication to your superior?”  
“Certainly.”

Gantu raised his brow ridge. Obrea wasn’t one for hyperbole; what had he discovered? Frowning, he pressed the button opening the door. As the gears began to whirr and the door slid open, Gantu placed his hand on his plasma gun. Just to be safe.  
  
Experiment 626’s jaw dropped as he entered the bridge. Not at the complicated array of machinery around him, nor at the stunning planetscape spreading out at the front of the room, but at the massive figure standing halfway between the window and the door. This figure, who had his hand on a blaster so large 626 felt he could curl up in with a reasonable amount of comfort, could only be Captain Gantu.

As 626 was marched forwards he noticed to look of shock (and maybe even slight fear) on Gantu’s face, and resolved to be on his best behavior. Stopping at Obrea’s cue, 626 looked up at Gantu and hoped that the mammoth captain was more reasonable than he looked.

Before the experiment could figure out what to say, Gantu spoke. “Lieutenant Commander,” he began, “even though there is really no excuse for lax behavior I have to admit that this”- he nodded at 626- “runs rather close to being one.” Looking downwards, Gantu addressed 626. “Can you speak?”

626 nodded. “I can, Captain. Quite well, so ask me anything.”

Gantu frowned. A bit presumptuous, this being seemed. Still, he had implied that he’d be willing to answer anything Gantu asked, so he decided to cut to the chase.

“I expect this may sound kind of blunt”, he continued, “but based off of your complete lack of resemblance to any known species I believe that you are an illegal genetic experiment. Am I correct in this assumption?”

“Yes, sir.” The experiment hung his head.

_Honest, this experimen_ t, Gantu thought. _At least, so far._ “Very well. Who created you?”

“I was created by Dr. Jumba Jookiba, sir. From Kweltikwan.”

“Jumba Jookiba? I’m not familiar with that name.”

Obrea spoke up. “Dr. Jookiba was the lead scientist of Galaxy Defense Industries up until about six years ago. He had begun work on hybrid organic-technological weapons before abruptly resigning and returning to his home system.”

Gantu nodded, and turned back to 626. “Are you here on your creator’s orders?”

“No, sir. I came here of my own volition, to warn you about him.”

“Warn me? That’s a new one. What, pray tell, are you worried about?”

626 opened his mouth, and then stopped. What would happen if he told Gantu what he really was? Sure, Obrea had taken it well enough, but there was no telling how a being such as the Captain would react. _What if he decides I need to be eliminated? What if by spilling on Jumba I’m signing my own death warrant? Does Jumba really pose THAT big a risk?_

626 took a deep breath, and began talking. “Well, sir, first I need to confess something. You see, Jumba created me to serve as the ultimate weapon-to sow fear and anarchy across the Federation. The only reason why I’m here and not gleefully plotting the best way to make the galaxy bleed his because he failed to program in me the desire for unbridled violence.” 626 took another breath, and then continued. “In short, sir, I was made to destroy and do nothing else. If all had gone to plan, I would desire nothing more than to see everyone in this room reduced to nothing but a bunch of bloody corpses.”

THAT got a reaction. Gantu paled, and as his jaw dropped 626 could see his fingers working ever more feverishly on the gun’s hilt. Behind him the bridge officers were no less transfixed: one had spilled his drink down his shirt at 626’s last admission, while the other swore and looked as though she wished to throw up.

“If this…if this is true, why are-why are you here?” Gantu stammered.

This was easier to say. “Because, sir, as I said earlier, Jumba failed. I swear to you that I have no appetite for destruction, and when I got wind of his plans I knew I had to escape before he reprogrammed me into the monster he wanted.”

“This there anything to back you up? Anything at all?”

Obrea stepped forwards and pulled out the small device he had used earlier. “Sir, the craft Experiment 626 flew in on contained a message we believe that Jumba had intended to serve as a set of guidelines and procedures his creation would follow during his havoic. It was…quite thorough, and corroborates 626’s story quite well. Also, may I engage in a slight bit of speculation?”

Gantu sighed. “Do as you will. If what this experiment says is true, I doubt any speculation on your part could be any more far-fetched. Still…” Gantu paused for a moment. Then, in a raised voice, he said “Everyone who is not Lieutenant Commander Obrea or this…626, leave us. I wish to hear the rest of their stories by myself.”

The bridge emptied fast: the soldiers were used to following orders and thus left without issue, while the rather unnerved deck officers were simply eager to get away from Jumba’s creation as soon as possible.

Once the room was cleared, Gantu spoke again. “Now, Lieutenant Commander, what sort of theory have you concocted?”

“Well, sir, upon hearing 626’s story and seeing the message, I think that the idea of a ‘failed bioweapon’ explains a few things-like Jumba’s abrupt resignation from Galaxy Defense just has he was making serious progress in a similar realm. It is possible that he may have feared running up against the law in his research, and thus decided to quit and continue under the radar. This also dovetails with several incidents across the galaxy in areas such as Meridian-4 and Ki’asw in which a Kweltikwan was caught attempting to poach various animals.”

“Any record of which animals?”

“The only one I know for sure is the Manglioid of Meridian 4.”

“Interesting. Certainly would fit in with your ‘destroy the galaxy’ theory.”

626 began to relax-it appeared that, contrary to his fears, Gantu believed him. Or at least found it reasonably plausible. He wasn’t exactly sure what federal procedure was to determine which reports of possible criminal activity were legitimate enough to warrant further investigation, but he imagined that between what Obrea had mentioned and the fact that, technically, 626 himself was an illegal existence he had enough to bring Jumba in.

Sure enough, after a moment of thought Gantu shook his head. “Of course, this is all just speculation. Still, it probably warrants following up on.” He glanced down at 626, and then picked him up. Glaring at him, Gantu addressed the experiment. “Of course, before I go sending my men off on what could be a trap or a wild goose chase, I want certain…assurances from you.”

626 was both confused and terrified that Gantu was about to crush him. “Assurances?”  


I want you to look me in the eye and say that you are giving me this information because you believe that Jumba needs to be dealt with, and that you are working for the good of the Federation, and that you will accept any punishment if it turns out that you are feeding us information that can or will lead to the harming of any member of the galactic armada.”

626 relaxed. Was that all? It was easy to swear, seeing as it was the whole reason 626 had done so in the first place, and as such he did so. Once he had, Gantu visibly softened somewhat and set him on back on the floor.”

“Very well then, I shall place my trust in you. Lieutenant Commander Obrea, if you will-please take Experiment 626 to one of the upper holding cells, and then meet me in the launch bay. In the meantime, I will send word to the men. Expect to leave in about 45 minutes.”

Obrea nodded, and then moved to escort 626 out of the room.

***

_-G.A.C. Durgon, 26:40 Turo Standard Time-_  


626 lay in the holding cell, wondering when he’d hear about how the raid on Jumba’s lab went. He’d been in the cell for hours, at least, spending most of the time trying to deal with the intermingling feelings of boredom and fear being cooped up in a cell brought down on him.

And a small amount of guilt over betraying his creator, at first, which was quickly replaced with a sense of anger. _Why did Jumba try to make a monster?_ He thought to himself. _Why couldn’t he just accept me for who I was?_ As 626 thought about it, it hurt more and more, until finally one more question emerged, one more horrible than any of the others:

_Why make me at all?_

If genetic experimentation of the sort that gave rise to beings such as 626 was truly illegal, why do it? And what of the creations? Did they have a right to even exist?

Unable to bear it any longer, 626 leapt up and began to pace back and forth. He was on what he estimated to be his tenth walk around the cell when the door opened and a pair of soldiers beckoned at him. He followed them out of the cell, dimly aware that this time they were letting him walk around without handcuffs. Buoyed by this, 626 made his way back to the deck along with his silent escort.

These positive feelings were instantly dispelled by the looks he saw on Gantu and Obrea’s faces when he entered the bridge. 626’s heart sank.

“Has something gone wrong?” He asked.

After a profoundly awkward pause, Gantu answered.

“Yes and no. We managed to raid the lab without any sort of bloodshed, and what little information we were able to glean seems to prove that you are correct. As such, an arrest warrant has been placed out for Doctor Jumba Jookiba.”

626 smiled at first. “But that’s good-wait, what do you mean ‘what little information’? And what was that about an arrest warrant?”

At this, the atmosphere on the bridge grew even more tense. After what seemed like an endless pause, Gantu spoke up again.

“By the time we got there Jumba had managed to delete most of the information on his computer, save about four or five journal entries. One of which consists entirely of the word traitor written over and over. Also…”

At this he trailed off, leading Obrea to finish Gantu’s sentence.

“By the time we arrived Jumba had managed to clear off in one of his personal cruisers. We have no idea where he is right now.”


	6. Incarceration

_-G.A.C. Durgon, 26:55 Turo Standard Time-_

626 felt a swooping sensation in his stomach. Clenching his fists, he forced himself to look up at Gantu and Obrea. “So Jumba’s loose?”

Gantu nodded. “We are doing the best we can to establish some sort of trail he may have left, but the process is both time consuming and of dubious value. In the meantime, we have decided that it is probably in your best interests to take steps to secure your personal safety, Experiment 626.”

“Safety? Is Jumba going to come after me or something?”

“There is a strong possibility of that occurring, yes, although what he would hope to accomplish from that we are not sure of.”

626 chuckled. “Well, sir, I think it’s pretty obvious. If he gets me, he can either finish his monster or get rid of a failed experiment.” The room began to swim. “So that’s it,” he said more to himself than anyone else, “if Jumba finds me-and I’m sure he’ll eventually figure out where I’ve come, it’s not all that hard to puzzle out-I’ll either be dead or turned into a killing machine.”

626 chuckled again, threw up what little food he’d had since his creation, and then fell to his knees. Obrea rushed forwards, concerned.

“I’m sorry, 626.”

626 shook his head, and took a deep breath. “Gantu mentioned protective measures earlier. Please-no matter what they are, I want the strongest ones you can offer me. Please.”

Gantu and Obrea exchanged glances.

“626,” Gantu began, “I’m not sure you’re aware of what that would entail. The strongest protective measures would mean placing you in a maximum security prison cell, under heavy restraint and in an _extremely uncomfortable position_. Believe me, it’s something you want to avoid at all costs-”

626 slammed both his right fists onto the floor. “IT DOESN’T MATTER! Gantu, I don’t think you get it. We’re talking about life and death here! If my creator gets his hands on me, I will either be completely disassembled or forced to become the very thing I came here to warn you about! Please-I don’t care about how painful or restrictive it is-as long as it stands the best chance of keeping me safe, I’ll take it.”

Gantu opened his mouth, closed it, and then sighed. “Very well, if it’s what you want I will authorize your placement into one of the outermost maximum security cells-but only after you’ve personally seen it and know what it entails. Is that acceptable?” When 626 nodded, Gantu turned to Obrea. “Lieutenant Commander, please escort 626 to cell block A-11-3. Sludge’s block.”

“Very well, sir. I shall ensure that Experiment 626 is given the full demonstration before he decides that maximum security is really what he wants.”

And with that the two turned to leave, but before they could exit Gantu spoke again.

“One more thing, 626-kindly refrain from raising your voice against me again, unless you with to find out what showing such disrespect to a high-ranking military officer leads to.”

After a short time, Experiment 626 and Lieutenant Commander Obrea made their way down to the maximum security cell 626 hoped to stay in. As Obrea talked with Sergeant Sludge, 626 took the room in. It was actually a bit larger than he expected, and with a small window in the upper corner he could gaze out of. The only things he felt warranted calling this cell “high-security” were the two cannons in the center, which he surmised were meant to prevent the prisoner attempting to escape out the window or through a vent. What was all the fuss about?

Soon enough, 626 got his answer when Lieutenant Sludge came over to him with a round, white object.

“This,” he pointed to it, “Is a restraint disk for a being about your size. Everyone who stays in one of these cells is kept in one. The disk pins a prisoner’s legs to their sides, and only their face is kept exposed. They can move theirr neck, sure, but that’s about it. Understand so far?”

626 nodded, guessing this was what Gantu meant by ‘heavy restraint’.

Sludge comtinued. “Good. Now, once the prisoner is secured in the restraint disk, we insert it into that slot up there”- he pointed to the ceiling- “and extract a sample of his blood via syringe. The blood is used to give those two cannons a target; they’re programmed take the genetic signature from the blood and target the prisoner with the same signature, shooting him if he breaks out of the restraint disk.”

“So what you’re saying is that if I agree to be incarcerated in this cell I’ll be strung up upside down with two cannons pointing at me until we catch Jumba.”

“That is correct, yes.”

“There are other arrangements we can take if you think this is too harsh, 626.” Said Obrea. “We could put you in a regular holding cell, for instance, or something similar.

626 thought for a moment, and then turned to Sludge. “What about food and drink?”

“The disk pipes it into you. It’s programmed to analyze your rate of perspiration and then disperse liquid to you at an equal rate, so that you are never dehydrated or in need of a bathroom.”

“So there’s no reason whatsoever for me to be removed during my stay?”

“None, although for legal reasons once a week or so we would be obligated to give you a break from the disk seeing as you’re not _technically_ a prisoner.”

“I understand.”

“Well, 626,” said Obrea, “is this really what you want?”

626 bit his lip, gazing at the cannons and the restraint disk. It was harsh, true, but the experiment couldn’t help but keep thinking about what fate would await him should he fall into Jumba’s hands. He had to avoid that at all costs, and extreme as this seemed to be 626 felt that it would prove effective.

His mind made up, 626 spoke. “If this is what’ll keep me safe from Jumba, so be it. I don’t care if it’s harsh.”

Sludge nodded. “Very well then. Experiment 626, if you will place your arms at your sides we can begin applying the restraints.”

As 626 felt the disk clamp around his sides, he hoped that they would catch Jumba soon.


	7. Change Of Plans

_-G.A.C Durgon cell bay, 7:00 Turo Standard Time-_

The worst part about his incarceration, Experiment 626 had decided, wasn’t the constant inversion. He had been pleased to find out that the restraint disk actually projected a low-level gravity field, warding off the ill-effects of being constantly upside-down. It was still unpleasant, but not intolerable. Neither was it the cannons, which though unnerving at first quickly faded to be just part of the scenery. Sure, they still _whirred_ and shifted in response to his movements, but as he wasn’t going anywhere he had nothing to fear from them. The lack of food also wasn’t a problem, and thanks to the fluid intake 626 never felt less than full. 

No, 626 had realized, the worst part about being strung upside-down for weeks was the sheer _boredom_. As the disk restrained everything but his face the most he could do was move his head from side-to-side or flick his ears, and as such he quickly got antsy. Playing around with the cannons had helped a little bit, as he had discovered that they would mistake the genetic signature in his saliva for a part of his body and duly follow it, but that got incredibly boring after the first few days or so. Even staring out the window didn’t help-the Durgon remained parked in low orbit over Turo, so from his position 626 couldn’t see anything but the same constellations. Nor was there any interest to be gained from the brief periods when he was released from the restraints, as the higher-ups insisted that 626 be kept as secure a state as possible and thus could not even leave the room. 

In short, the only things keeping 626 from going completely mad or giving in to something less extreme were the constant lessons: Lieutenant Sludge had been assigned as his guard/handler, and fortunately for his prisoner’s sanity had taken upon himself to teach 626 everything he could about the Federation. He was incredibly boring, to be sure, but 626 had to admit that it was better than nothing. That, and he was actually learning a great deal. Eventually, after just under three weeks of incarceration, their discussion turned to after Jumba was captured. 

“What’ll happen to me then?” 626 asked. 

Sludge shrugged. “Probably, not much. I imagine that you’ll be called in as a witness to Jumba’s crimes, after which point you’ll be free to go.” 

“But what about my…well…you know?”

“What are you talking about?”

626 sighed. “Aren’t I technically illegal? Obrea said that my existence broke at least a dozen laws.” 

“That shouldn’t be too much of a problem, actually. Current political winds are pretty liberal and accepting of different outlooks on life, so odds are the Council will give you some sort of special status. Then, it’ll be up to you to decide what to do with your life. Any thoughts on that?”

626 was quiet. What DID he intend to do after he got out? So far, everything in his (admittedly short) life had related around Jumba and his plans, so there wasn’t much to go on. Still, 626 felt that he had to say something. He thought back: had there been anything he’d done that seemed particularly enjoyable? As he tried to think, he remembered what it felt like to fly. He remembered that overpowering sensation of freedom and limitless possibilities, and had his answer. 

“I think,” 626 began, “I’d like to do something involving flight.” 

Sludge nodded. “I see. In that case I’d suggest that you look into joining the Armada. You wouldn’t get a free pass in or anything, but so long as you’re good enough – and judging by the information I have about the security systems your creator had installed you’d have to be in order to have escaped that – I don’t think you would have any problem signing up.”

“Anything not military?” 

“Sure, if you wouldn’t mind flying the same routes over and over or dealing with tourist children shouting and throwing their drinks around your craft. And you’d have to deal with bigoted men in suits saying _sorry we don’t hire abominations_ before even getting a job.” 

626 rolled his eyes. “You’re not biased at all, are you? Still I suppose you have a point there. Well, it’s not like any of this matters considering they’ve had three weeks to turn Jumba up and haven’t made any progress.”

“We’re doing our best.” 

“But how long is this going to take? I’ve been strung up here for so long I swear that if I ever get down I’ll have forgotten how my legs work. And not to mention the fact that so far I’ve spent almost all my life in handcuffs or prison cells or some other horrible thing!” 

Sludge held up his hand. “Look, you signed up for this, didn’t you? And like I said earlier: we’re. doing. our. best.” 

“And like _I_ said: you’re best isn’t working! Honestly you armada people haven’t done anything!” 

At that Sludge stood up, angered. “What, and you think you could do any better? We’ve given you shelter, food, overlooked your rather dubious origins, and not to mention the fact that we’re sending our army halfway across the galaxy just for you. Hell, I think-” Realizing he was winding himself up, Sludge paused and took a deep breath. “Nevermind. This is unbecoming of an officer. If you excuse me, I need to take a few minutes. I apologize for the outburst.” He turned and, arms jammed in his pockets, Sludge exited the cell. 

“You doing alright, Sludge?” Obrea had been standing outside the door, and stared at the lieutenant with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’m fine, Lieutenant Commander. 626 and I just had a disagreement as to the way circumstances surrounding the Jookiba hunt are going and I thought it best to step out for a time.” 

“Want me to talk with him?”

“If you damn well please.” 

Obrea watched Sludge mutter his way around the corner, shrugged, and turned to the cell door. 

626’s face brightened when he saw the lieutenant commander. “Is there news about Jumba? Please tell me you’ve got something.”

Obrea shook his head. “I’m just here to watch you until Sludge calms down. What were you two arguing about in the first place?” 

“Well, I’m just getting sick of how slow all of this is going. I’ve been here what? 20 days? And with no end in sight?”  
“626, there’s not much more that we can do. Space is large. You have any idea how long it takes to search a single system?We’re searching an entire galaxy.”

626 frowned for a moment. Actually, Obrea had given him an idea, and he said as much.

“Oh?” The lieutenant commander was curious.

“Well, think about it. Rather than ‘searching an entire galaxy’, what if we stop searching and make Jumba search for us?”

Obrea’s brow raised. “Come again?”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense to try and lure him in somewhere we can capture him instead of chasing him all around the galaxy?” 

“And how would you go about doing this?” 

“Simple: put out word that I’m hiding here, let it spread through the galaxy, and eventually it’ll make its way to him. It’s not like I have anything better to do.”

Obrea thought for a moment. “Might work, actually. I’ll have to take it up to Captain Gantu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie; this chapter sat unfinished for roughly a year and a half. Writers’ block writ large!


	8. Lure

_-G.A.C. Durgon Bridge, 10:00 Turo Standard Time –_

“…So then Jumba tries to sneak in to my cell to take me back, and then when he’s there the soldiers arrest him!” Excited by the sweet release from twenty straight days in his cell, 626 spared no detail explaining his plan to Gantu.

The captain mulled it over. “It could work…and it would probably be cheaper than our current strategy, at any rate. And that means less grief from HQ when it comes time for budget review…” He shook his head. “That’s neither here nor there. Still I would change one thing about your plan. Rather than say you’re hiding here, why don’t we say you’re being held?”

“What’s the difference?” 

“Saying you’re being held implies that the process is involuntary. If Jumba thinks you’re being imprisoned against your will, he might think it more likely that you’ll go with him. Better odds for a return on his investment.”

626 nodded. It made sense, once he thought about it.

“Also, rather than spread the rumor through the army like you suggested, I think we’ll spread it…elsewhere.” 

“Where?”

Gantu shrugged. “Connections that moral, upstanding men such as the Lieutenant Commander and I don’t like to advertise.” 

626 was confused. “Ooookay…” He turned to Obrea for clarification, only to find that he was pointedly looking elsewhere and (at least as far as he could tell) trying his best not to laugh. 626 suddenly got the notion that he wasn’t the only one in the room at the moment with some experience in matters of dubious legality.

***   
-G.A.C. Durgon Cell Bay, 23:30 Turo Standard Time- 

It had been five days since Gantu put word out to the… _contacts_ (626 wondered whether delicately talking around the obvious was something he’d deal with a lot if he did decide to join the armada), and so far no bite. 626 was alone in his cell, trying to fall asleep to the gentle whirr of the engines. 

Just outside the window, the otherwise-unchanging starlight briefly winked as a two-person shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and detached from its stabilizing ring.

When Jumba had first heard the rumors, he’d not believed it. How in space had the Federation managed to find 626 before he could? Still, as he thought about it more, it did make some sense – maybe 626 had gone to them out of fear? Then, he suspected that it was a trap. In fact, he figured, it probably was, but if they had captured his creation it was still a trap worth springing. After all, for all the risks entailed spiriting the experiment out of (not completely willing, from the sounds of it) Federation custody would still be easier than creating a new experiment wholesale. With that in mind, Jumba prepped his shuttle and made for Turo. 

Jumba dropped out of orbit half an our before midnight, and, after two hours of drifting to erase any trail, began to quietly jet towards the massive Federation ship. The Kweltikwan scientist thumbed his comm open upon hitting the 4500-mile line and paged the nearest group of patrol ships.

“This is ensign Tolme,” a tired voice answered, “state your name, registration number, and, uhhhhh, point of origin.”

Jumba smiled. Time to play drunk. “whaaaasssshhhhhup, man! How’sh night goin?”

Uh, fine?”

“Shweet! OhyeahbeforeIforget – I’m Ramthar Shilvestri, thish beautiful babe pershonal cruisher (got it ash a gift, thankyouverymuch), registration number 29518510 I think. That or 25918510. Or maybe shomething else entirely? Oh, and I’m coming from Parnassosh.”

The voice on the other end audibly yawned. “Fine. Whatever. Have a nice day. Or night. Whichever it is.”

“You too, bro!!!!” Jumba then powered up his engines and pretended to head planetside. As he did, he shook his head. _Such talk is unbecoming of evil genius self._ By the Gods, that was embarrassing! The things he did for science. Once out of danger he angled his ship towards the much larger Durgon. Where was the best approach? He wondered. Obviously the primary hangar was out of the question, and although there were several other hangars of less import and notability finding one that was both easy to reach and large enough for his cruiser was a challenge. Eventually, Jumba settled on one near the engines and glided in. Once inside he located a nearby computer terminal, hacked himself in, and began searching for his wayward experiment. 

Unfortunately for Jumba, whoever had designed the Durgon’s computer was not nearly as organized as him, but after a good fifteen minutes he finally managed to obtain a cross-section of the ship. “Now where is the prison bay?” He mumbled. As it turned out, there were several: a primary bank of several thousand low-to-mid security cells in the middle of the base, a ring of maximum security cells directly in the core, and another group of maximum cells portside stern. This location was conveniently close to the hangar, and so he decided to start there. Jumba turned away from the computer and began to sneak out, but almost immediately facepalmed and turned back. “Of course! The security cameras! I am being idiot to forget that!” He went back to work, and after another few minutes of maneuvering managed to pull up the power grid for the general section he intended to search. A few keystrokes later and the power was cut; he was ready to go.

“What the _hell_?” Up on the bridge, First Officer Ombit had been enjoying the latest episode of Iouri on Ice when her computer bleeped a warning. Looking at the readout, she noticed that there was a power outage in section A-1. She frowned: wasn’t that where the Captain was keeping that experiment. She turned to her shiftmate and, seeing that he had fallen asleep, shook him. 

“Gatco! Hey! GATCO!”

“Whazzamater?” 

“There’s a localized power outage in section A-1. That’s where they’re keeping Experiment 626, right?” 

Gatco shrugged. “Yeah, so what? We get power glitches a lot.” 

Ombit rolled her eyes. “In precisely one region of the ship? The same place we’re currently keeping an _extremely significant prisoner?_ ” 

Finally, it sunk in. “Oh, blitznak!” Gatco moaned. “When’d the system log it in?”

“Just a minute ago. You thinking that we can trace where the outage originated?”  


He nodded. “Something this localized suggests that the power was probably cut via computer terminal. It also looks like whoever’s doing this is trying to get in and out as fast as possible, so they probably have a ship.” 

“Right, where do you think they landed?”

“Maybe one of the ancillary docks near the engines?” Gatco pulled up the readouts for one of the portside docks, while Ombit did the same for one on starboard. “I don’t see anything…wait – looks like we registered something in one of the docks right nearby.” 

Ombit looked over and groaned. “Oh, shitballs! That wasn’t even half an hour before the outage!” Considering the delay it was at least somewhat probable that the intruder had already made their way to the cell block. She grabbed the intercom and paged the officer barracks. “Attention! This is first officer Ombit! We have an emergency in sector A-1! Intruder detected! All available personnel, please make your way there immediately to intercept!”  
  
*** 

626 was jolted out of his sleep when the lights in his cell abruptly flickered off, then kicked back on in red as the emergency power activated. As the cannons around him flickered back on line he tensed up, wondering if this meant that finally, at long last, creator and creation were about to reunite. 

Sure enough, within a few minutes the door to his cell opened up and 626 saw a rather familiar face peeking in. 

“626…at long last I have found you.” Wary, Jumba stepped into the room. 626 noticed that he was carrying a small gun. “Is net gun,” Jumba explained, “just in case you get any ideas. Now, will you come quietly?”

626 shook his head. “Only if you give up the whole ‘instrument of destruction’ thing.” 

“Impossible. Is your only reason for being. This galaxy is stagnated, 626 – nothing of meaning advances, and the Galactic Federation stifles all dynamism in member worlds under weight of regulation after regulation.”

“And unleashing me upon the galaxy would do what? Massacre entire planets? Create anarchy?”

“It would lead to _change_! If none but an evil genius like myself can see it, then so be it. 626, you will fulfill your original programming. We will leave together. No one is coming. I made sure that by the time those armada fools get up and ready, we will already be back in ship on our way to Kweltikwan.” And with that, Jumba advanced. 

As he did, 626 took stock of his options: there were none. The restraint disk prevented any movement, and although he could theoretically break out there was only one place he could go, leaving him a sitting duck for Jumba’s net gun. And even then, his only options were to try and run past his creator through the open door (unlikely to work) or try to sneak into a vent (too easy target for the net gun) And all this was even before he factored in the room’s cannons –

Wait. 

The cannons. 

_Of course_. 

It was the only option. 

626 glared down at his creator, and gathered all the spit he had in his mouth into one giant glob. Then, hoping beyond hope that what he had discovered those first few days in the cell meant that the cannons worked the way he thought they did, he spit.

It worked beyond all expectations. The cannons flared to life and unloaded multiple masses of plasma at the Kweltikwanian scientist, whose voice jumped several octaves as he leapt back. 

“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING, YOU TROG!” He roared. 626 didn’t bother giving a response, and merely spit again. This time, he actually aimed, and while Jumba managed to avoid a face-full of plasma his gun was not nearly so lucky. Jumba stared at its charred remnants and snarled.

“Still think this is going to be easy?” 626 smirked. Jumba tried once more to lunge, but before he could get any closer the cannons blocked his path once again. “Now back off, or the next time I won’t miss.” 

Jumba glared, but before he could respond he heard the sound of boots echoing down the hallway. 

Obrea burst into the room along with what looked to be well over a dozen soldiers. Without missing a beat or flinching at the smell of charred plasma and metal emanating from multiple impact marks, the Lieutenant Commander trained his gun on Jumba. 

“Dr. Jumba Jookiba, I presume?” 

Jumba merely sighed.

“Excellent. Dr. Jookiba, you are hereby placed under arrest for illegal genetic experimentation, trespassing on a military vessel, and an attempted kidnapping.” With his free hand he gestured towards another soldier. “Wheron, read him his rights.”


	9. Trial

_-G.A.C. Durgon, 5:00 Turo Standard Time-_

Wheron and most of the other soldiers escorted Jumba down to the holding cells, while Obrea and 626 instead began heading to Gantu’s quarters. As they walked Obrea turned to the experiment.

“Mind telling me what the hell all those scorch marks and explosions were?”

626 grinned. “Well, it turns out that when you say those guns tracked my genetic signature, that also included spit. So, when a lobbed a massive amount of it at Jumba the cannons read it as me escaping and reacted accordingly. Turned out to be pretty good at keeping him at bay.”

Obrea stopped and stared. “So you’re saying…that you saved yourself from a kidnapping…by hoking a bunch of loogies.” He opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated the action, and then burst out laughing before slapping 626 on the shoulder. “That is legitimately the funniest thing I’ve heard in a _long_ time! Gods, when you said you were smart you weren’t kidding” Then, still chuckling, he continued down the hallway.

626 rolled his eyes.

Gantu was just as amused by the unique circumstances behind Jumba’s apprehension, although he hid it better.

‘Right, now that we’ve managed to…creatively apprehend Jumba,” he said as he fought to keep from laughing, “we can talk about putting him on trial.”

“What happens then?” 626 asked.

“Then we take Jumba in front of the entire Federation Council and try him for his actions – creating you and later attempting to kidnap you back after you escape, suspected terrorist activities – so that he receives the punishment the Grand Councilwomen sees fit.”

“The Grand Councilwomen’s the highest authority in the Federation.” Obrea explained.

626 turned to him. “I know who she is. Lieutenant Sludge explained it to me.” Then, turning back to Gantu, he asked what role he’d have in the trial.

Gantu shrugged. “You’ll probably be used as evidence.”

“Evidence? Not a witness?”

“Well, the council doesn’t know you exist yet, so that option’s a lot simpler. That being said, it WILL require you to sit in a glass case for the duration of the trial, as a warning.”

626 sighed. “Great. More imprisonment. Wonderful.” Still, if it meant putting Jumba behind bars, he was willing to do it, and it couldn’t be worse than the restraint disk.

“Very well, then. The trial will likely take place about two months from now. Until then, you will have to remain aboard this ship. I’ll see to it that you get your own private quarters.” Gantu smiled. “After all, you deserve something better than a prison cell.”

***

_-Galactic Federation Headquarters, Planet Turo, 13:00 Turo Standard Time-_

Jumba hated the Galactic Federation for multiple reasons: first of all, his experiences growing up under the despotic Pobydonion regime on Kweltikwan (which had had the official recognition of the current Councilwomen’s predecessor, he might add) had given him a healthy distrust for authority. Secondly, his work for the Federation back when he was at Galaxy Defense made it obvious that real change was completely anathema to even the supposedly-liberal Councilwomen and as a result the galaxy was completely stagnated. Such a situation could not be tolerated, as a stagnant galaxy was a complacent galaxy, one that would be ill-equipped to deal with any significant change to the status quo.

And thirdly, the Federation saw it fit to make their High Council chamber into a cave roughly five hundred feet high and 350 feet wide, while sticking the accused on floating platforms in the resulting abyss.

_This room is the abomination, not my experiments_ , Jumba thought as the eminent Grand Councilwomen stepped up to the podium in the front of the room.

Glaring down at him, she announced that the trial was in session. To her left, that massive cretin Gantu pulled out a slip of paper and cleared his throat.

“Dr. Jumba Jookiba,” he began, “former lead scientist of Galaxy Defense Industries, you stand before this council accused of attempted kidnapping, attempted terrorism, trespassing on a military vehicle, and…” Jumba fought to keep from snorting. Pausing for effect? What was this, a kriffing play? “Illegal genetic experimentation.”

The chamber erupted into an uproar, and as it did Jumba heard a tremendous _clanking_ from the back of the room. Turning to look, he saw an enormous evidence module enter the room and begin the slow transit towards him.

“How do you plead?” The Grand Councilwomen asked after the noise quieted down.

Normally Jumba would have liked nothing better than the spout a defiant ‘not guilty’, but considering the events of two months ago that was out of the question. Still, maybe he could claim this was all some misunderstanding and he’d actually made 626 good on purpose? It _might work_.

Putting on his best look of contrition, Jumba answered her. “I plead guilty. I’ll admit it: I have tempered with laws of nature.”

Intrigued, the Councilwomen leaned forwards. “So you admit that you actually created something?”

The evidence module was all the way up to Jumba now and was beginning to unwind and reveal its secrets. Jumba watched for a moment, and pressed on. “Created something? Yes, although it may be irresponsible and unethical, my curiosity got away from me. Still, know that I would NEVER, EVER, make more than one.”

And with that, the module finished opening revealing Experiment 626 in a little glass case. The chamber promptly exploded again as thousands of delegates reacted to his creation, and as they did Jumba noticed Gantu whispering in the Councilwomen’s ear. She whispered back, appeared the faintly grin, and held up her hand for silence.

“Your skills are very impressive, Dr. Jookiba, if you can create a living organism. What is it called?”

Her reaction was encouraging, and Jumba decided not to hold anything back. _Well, save for slight omission of 626’s original function_. “My creation is actually a _he_ , milady. I call him Experiment 626.” He turned to look at his experiment, who was currently gazing somewhere out in the chamber. “He is bulletproof, fireproof, and can think faster than supercomputer. He can see in the dark, and lift objects 3,000 times his size. Best of all, he is programmed with the highest level of morality, and if given the chance will be perfect model citizen!”

The Councilwomen frowned, and then smirked to herself. Years in her position had given her decent knowledge at recognizing transparent attempts to cover someone’s ass.

“I am relieved to hear that. However, I cannot take your word alone. With your permission, I would like to speak with your creation and get his thoughts.”

“Go ahead.”

“I thank you, Dr. Jookiba.” Then, shifting her focus to 626, the Councilwomen addressed him. “Experiment 626. Jumba says that you were created to do good across the galaxy. Tell us the truth of the matter. Are you truly as altruistic of a creation as he says?”

All the while, after his reveal, 626 had been enraptured by the High Council chamber. It was so big, and there were so many different races that he didn’t know where to begin. Everywhere he looked he saw something new, races Sludge had taught him about and races he’d never heard of before, and wondered. Wondered what these people were like, the histories of their species, how they came to join the Federation.

For the first time since his birth, 626 realized the scope and breadth of the Federation. And just how alone he was.

He was snapped out of his reverie by someone calling his name. He turned to the front of the room, and listened as a regal-looking grey women in flowing robes asked him to explain himself and Jumba’s plans to the court. Well, time to prove that Jumba had set out to create a monster, and to demonstrate how he was nothing like that. 626 took a deep breath, and as thousands of councilors in the chamber and untold trillions watching at home listened, began to speak.

“What you say is only half true, milady.” 626 silently thanked Sludge and Obrea for drilling him on the proper etiquette beforehand, as he imagined he was going to need it. “I am bulletproof, and fireproof, and strong and smart and all those other things. I also have pinpoint accuracy with spit.” A wave of chuckles rippled through the room: stories had made the rounds about how whatever the Federation had cooped up aboard the _Durgon_ supposedly managed to thwart an enemy attack with his own saliva. “But, I wasn’t created to do good. I mean, I would if given the chance, but Jumba had something else in mind.” He looked over at his creator, whose face had suddenly dropped into a pure look of “oh shit.”

“I was created to be a monster.

“When I was created, the first thing Jumba did was ask me how much I wanted to destroy things. All those attributes he mentioned – even the spit thing, probably – were programmed into me so that I could fulfil my true purpose: the violent dismantling of the entire Federation and the leaving of millions of corpses in my wake.”

The room was so quiet that a councilor sitting on one end could hear a pin drop on the other.

“Had I not fled the lab when I could, he would have reprogrammed me into this abomination, and instead of standing here I’d be out sewing anarchy from one end of the galaxy to the other.

“But that’s not me. I want to do good. I _want_ to make the galaxy a better place.” He paused to collect himself. “Over the past couple of months, I’ve done a lot of thinking. About my place in the universe. And I don’t know it. I’m an illegal genetic experiment, the only one of my kind in existence. But I’d like to make a place for myself doing good things for the Federation, to repay the people who sheltered me when I ran to them.”

Jumba couldn’t believe it. The _ungrateful_ , _traitorous_ , _scum of the cosmos_ experiment! He’d given 626 life, and what did he do? Sell him out to save his own skin! Jumba opened his mouth to defend himself, but before he did that idiotic Captain on the podium spoke first.

“626 delivered to us proof of what he says. Aboard the craft he arrived in was a video from Dr. Jookiba explaining in rather explicit detail his plans for his creation.” A pair of massive viewscreens popped up, and to Jumba’s horror the video he’d prepared for 626 beamed out across the galaxy. His heart sank: there was no saving him now.

After the videos finished, the Councilwomen stared down at him. “Do you have anything to say in your defense, Dr. Jookiba?”

Defeated, the Kweltikwanian could do nothing but sigh. “No. I admit it. I admit it. My traitorous experiment told it true.” The Councilwomen then asked the Council to deliberate on the verdict, but Jumba didn’t bother listening. It wasn’t like there was any doubt.

Sure enough, her voice boomed at him in a mixture of authority and disgust. “I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment on Prison Asteroid K-37.” As she finished speaking, a glass bubble enclosed Jumba on his platform and began hovering him out of the chamber. He didn’t even react, save for glaring at 626. _Mark my words,_ he thought, _I will get you for this, you failed experiment_.


	10. Rights

Chapter 10: Rights

_-Galactic Federation Headquarters, Planet Turo 13:30 Turo Standard Time-_

626 watched his creator descend with more mixed feelings than he would have thought. Sure, Jumba deserved everything coming to him, but he was still 626’s creator. In some senses, the closest that the experiment had to a family. And with that in mind, a tiny part of 626’s brain told him that he should feel guilty for betraying the man who brought him into the galaxy.

He sighed and turned back to the podium in front. The trial of Dr. Jumba Jookiba may have ended, but it seemed that the trial of Experiment 626 was still going on.

The Councilwoman spoke again. “Now that the matter of Dr. Jumba Jookiba has been laid to rest, it is time that we focus on the next matter: what to do with his creation. I would now like to ask the court to consider the following: does is there a place for Experiment 626 in our Federation?”

Gantu stepped forwards. “Milady, I would like to propose a motion granting Experiment 626 full citizenship and all the accordant rights. Since I first met him three months ago, he has shown himself to be fully deserving of my trust, and as such I cannot think of any reason why he should be treated as anything less than a full member of the Galactic Federation.”

The Councilwomen nodded. “Very well then. Captain Gantu has formally proposed that Experiment 626 be given full rights as a citizen of the Federation. Are there any other proposals?”

“Aye!” A voice shouted from the far back. 626 looked and saw a small, teddy-bear like councilor leaning into his microphone.

“And what does councilor Clarxine propose?

“What are we thinkin’ letting a monster like that in our midst! He SAYS he’s good, but can he prove it? It’d be wicked easy for a scientist like Dr. Jookiba to teach his experiment how to fake it – for all we know, he’s just waitin for the chance to do us in!”

626 couldn’t believe it. Where was _this_ coming from?

“I propose that we keep that thing under lock and key the rest of his unnatural life!”

Right after Clarxine finished speaking, 626 heard a voice from somewhere else shout “Seconded!”

Then, right after _that_ , another voice shouted “Oh, grow up Clarxine! There’s no evidence that 626 is anything but what he says he is, and if Captain Gantu believes him so do I!” A squid-like councilor, Halpern, smiled down at the experiment. “I second the original notion.”

After that it was anarchy.

“If anyone needs to grow up it’s you, squid! Stop being politically correct and look at it! If we let Jumba’s creation roam free, that’ll just give license to _other_ madmen who want to play God!”

“Oh, certainly, there won’t be anything holding them back! it’s not like we just handed Jumba a life sentence in a gigamax prison or anything! You’re stuck in the last century!”

“You’re just a bleeding heart! Clarxine had the right of it! Lock it up!”

“For what? Existing? I think you’re just a bunch of bigoted old dogmatics, and I think Halpern and Gantu have more empathy than you ever will!”

“Oh, cry me a river!”

“At least I actually have emotions, you sociopathic fish!”

Sick of everything, Gantu slammed down his fist. “EVERYONE SHUT UP!” The room instantly quieted. “we’re in the Council chamber! Not the kriffing schoolyard!”

The Councilwoman shot him a look. “Captain Gantu! I understand your frustrations but _watch your language!_ This is no place for profanity!” Then, addressing the still-silent chamber, she continued. “Still, Gantu has the right of it. If you have nothing substantive to add to this debate, please, keep silent and let cooler heads to the talking.”

Clarxine huffed. “As you command. Still, I implore the Council to think things through: if we let 626 go free, what sort of precedent does that set?”

Another councilor near Clarxine spoke up. “It sets a precedent of tolerance. When our Federation was founded, it was founded on the idea of equality and peace. That every race had the right to a say in how the galaxy should be run, and equal space just to _be_. And,” she gestured to a robotic councilor sitting below her, “it’s not as though constructed life forms are something totally alien to the galaxy.”

“There’s a difference between binary load-lifters who developed sentience after years of refinement and an escaped bioweapon.” Replied another councilor.

“An escaped bioweapon with no indication that he intends to fulfill that purpose, and plenty to contradict it.” Halpern countered. “If 626 really meant to destroy us, wouldn’t he have done _something_ the past few months? From what Gantu said it seemed like he spent most of the last two months relaxing on the _Durgon_ , in prime position to strike a military target of significant value.”

“But isn’t this” – the speaker gestured around the chamber – “an even more valuable target? What after all, our entire government is localized right in this area of Turo. Is it possible that 626 calculated that playing along would get him a better target in the long run?”

Finally, 626 couldn’t stay silent any longer and spoke up. “Do you have any proof of that? Any at all?”

The councilor blushed. “Well, no, but…”

“Let me tell you the facts, sir – I went to the _Durgon_ because I thought it was right. I sold out my creator, the closest thing that I have to a family, because I thought it was right. Heck, I even put up with three weeks of maximum security imprisonment because I thought it was the safest option! How am I a monster?”

“But didn’t you admit that Jumba wanted you to be one? That if he’d had his way you’d be rampaging around the galaxy?” The ‘sociopathic fish’ (626 had no idea what his actual name was) asked.

“He did. But that’s. not. me. Please, just give me a chance to prove myself. Let me show that I have things inside that _are_ good, despite the fact that I am what I am.”

“And what would you suggest?”

626 turned to Gantu. “I’ve been thinking a lot the past few months, and I’ve decided that, if I were to leave this place a free man – or experiment, I guess – that I’d repay Captain Gantu, Lieutenant Commander Obrea, and all the others in the Armada by joining them.

“You’d ask us to put a gun in your hands?” Clarxine shouted. 626 did his best not to get angry.

“Think of it this way – yes, I would have guns, but so would everyone around me. And the Gods know that a lot of my fellow soldiers would be just as wary around me as you are.” As 626 said it, the truth of what he was saying sunk in: he’d always be distrusted. And even if he were to join the Armada, he’d probably have to deal with some of his fellow soldiers scorning or ignoring him simply based off what he was.

It was a horrible thought. Still, 626 refused to let it swallow him up while he still needed to prove himself, so he continued speaking. “So remember that if I join the Armada, I’ll send all my time there under the watchful eye of other people just as armed as I am.” Well, save for all the little bonuses Jumba programmed in him, but now wasn’t the best time to mention that. “So please. Don’t say that I’m a criminal just because I’m an illegal experiment. Understand that I’m better than that.” With nothing else to say, 626 quieted.

It was the Councilwoman’s turn again. “Is there anyone else who wishes to speak on the matter of Experiment 626?” She waited a moment. “Then I move the matter to a vote. All in favor of Captain Gantu’s proposal, please vote yes on your screens.”

For a couple of minutes, the council chamber was almost silent as members fidgeted, thought, and voted. After they’d had ample time to enter their opinions the Councilwomen displayed the results on the massive screens in the front. From what 626 could tell, the vote looked narrowly split about 51% to 46%, with the rest abstaining. The results were displayed in black and white, so 626 had no idea which result had passed.

He didn’t have to wait to get his answer. “Motion carried. Let it be known that, on this 21st of August, Federation Year 3620, we hereby grant Experiment 626 full citizenship in the United Galactic Federation and all the rights guaranteed therein.”

***

Finally freed from that blasted case and the council chamber, 626 found himself trapped once again – this time, in a bear hug courtesy of an ecstatic Obrea.

“I can’t believe it – full citizenship! Congratulations!”

626 managed to extricate himself from the hug and smiled up at the captain. “Thank you. And by the way, I meant everything I said about joining the Armada. I plan on enlisting as soon as possible.”

“We’d be glad to have you, 626. You’ve shown yourself more than worthy, and if there’s any pushback I promise that I will move hell and high water to get you a place in the fleet.”

Before they could discuss further, the door to the room opened and the Councilwomen entered. “Ma’am.” Obrea saluted.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant Commander. I would speak with 626 alone for a moment.”

626 was curious. What did she want?

After Obrea left, she addressed him. “I wish to congratulate you on your good fortune. Things could have gone differently, but in the end I think things went just as they should. You deserve a place in our galaxy.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I mean milady. Or, uh, do I call you ma’am?”

The Councilwomen smiled. “Ma’am is fine. Speaking of names, that was the other thing I wished to speak with you about. Now that you are a galactic citizen, if you wish you could change your name. You’re more than just a science experiment, after all, so there’s no need to go by ‘Experiment 626’ if you don’t want to.

The experiment thought about it. What would it be like, not being 626? Sure, it would be less unique, but like she said, he was more than just some thing cooked up by science. Maybe choosing a real name would let him express himself the way _he_ wanted to, not the way everyone else did.

But then again, was being called ‘Experiment 626’ really all that bad? When Obrea or Gantu said it, it never felt dispassionate or lesser. Honestly, even though it was just a number, he’d never felt that they’d called him ‘626’ any differently than they called each other by their names. The more he thought about it, the more keeping his name what it currently was felt right, and he explained his thoughts to the Councilwomen.

“If that is your decision, very well. Then, I hereby name you Experiment 626, and welcome you to the United Galactic Federation.” And with that, she left, leaving 626 alone. Before long Obrea returned, and then it was off to the _Durgon_ , not as a fugitive or prisoner or piece of evidence, but a citizen looking to join the Galactic Armada and do some good in the galaxy.

_Jumba, eat your heart out_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends the first arc! Honestly I'm both surprised and flattered by the consistent readership I've accrued over the first ten chapters. Hats off, and hope I can continue to write this even more and even better in the future!  
> Also, there's probably going to be a bit of a break between now and the next chapter, in order to free up time to focus on my other fic and my life outside of AO3. College 'n all that.


	11. Lessons

Chapter 11: Lessons

_-Turian Armada Academy, 11:45 Turo Standard Time-_

“…And as we can see here, the thrusters employed on the _pursuer_ -class cruisers give them a significant advantage over most light cruisers of a similar build. Can anyone tell me how Galaxy-Defense Industries managed to optimize the craft like this?”

A month after Jumba's trial, 626 was sitting somewhere he never would have imagined: in a classroom.

It made sense in hindsight, when 626 thought about it: a month ago, he’d been surprised to learn that before he could formally join the Armada he’d first have to go through military school and receive proper training. At the time he’d been outraged, thinking that he already knew enough as is to skip that stage and join the fleet, but since joining the academy he actually HAD learned a fair bit of information.

Like today’s lesson about the police cruisers, for example. “By removing the hood cannons.” One of the other cadets responded. “Doing so allowed them to streamline it and reduce the drag in atmospheric flights, as well as make it so it was lighter when traveling in space.”

“Correct. Can anyone tell me of a design flaw?”

No one could think of anything, so 626 decided to enter his two cents. “It forced all the firepower into the underside cannon, which is more at risk of snapping off.”

“Also correct. Can you think of any possible solutions?”

_Were_ there any? The most logical one would be to break the cannon up into smaller ones on the sides or something, but that had it’s own set of problems.

“Not that I can think of, sir.”

“Anyone else have a solution? No? Then now we’ll move on to the engines…”

Fifteen minutes later, it was time for lunch. 626 was relieved to see that upon entering the cafeteria the amount of stares and whispers were down to perhaps a handful. When he’d first entered the academy he was the center of attention wherever he went, which was quite annoying and also rather isolating. Now, though, he’d become enough of a familiar figure that he mostly didn’t warrant attention.

Suddenly, 626 felt a whisper over his right shoulder. “Day 30…the locals have accepted me as one of their own.” Then a green arm whipped by him and grabbed the last gorgyr rind. He sighed. “You know, I was gunning for that.”

The owner of the green arm in question, an Amuan named Spon Jofford, smiled at him. “Then stop looking around to see how many people still think you’re a zoo exhibit and focus on the food. C’mon – let’s go sit by the window.”

626 had met Spon a couple days into training when they’d gotten into a heated in-class debate over whether or not the Federation’s obsessive love of round things had a detrimental effect on the design of sidearms, and since then 626 had decided that he rather liked the other cadet. He was a bit irreverent at times, maybe, but as it turned out that really wasn’t a bad thing as it meant that the Amuan had absolutely no reservations about befriending an illegal bioweapon.

Not that he didn’t enjoy ribbing 626 for it every now and again. “Question about the drills – aren’t you kind of cheating with your nice, anti-gun skin?”

“How so?”

“Well considering that you’re Mr. Bulletproof over there it seems like you have a biiit of an advantage over the rest of us.”

“Yeah, but it still looks bad if I get shot half a million times.”

“Fair enough. Anyways, we should probably hurry up and finish eating.”

After lunch was done, the two reported to the testing range: they’d been scheduled for a live-fire test, which the Federation liked to use to see which cadets gelled well and what their individual strengths were. Thankfully, today 626 and Spon were in the same squad, along with a Catonian named Mikkk, a Zavin named Sheral, and a raptrian 626 had never seen before but looked kind of like Obrea.

When he went over to introduce himself, the raptrian turned away. “Piss off, trog. Bad enough I have to work with you. We’re not getting all buddy-buddy.”

Hurt but undaunted, 626 tried to continue. “I’m sorry, but seeing as we’re squad mates today, should we at least –” He couldn’t think of anything else to say to say.

“At least _what_? Say ‘hi, how do you do’? Like hell! Things like you should stay in the lab where they belong.”

626 clenched his fists and tried to walk away. _He’s just an idiot,_ he tried to tell himself, _I can’t change that. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care._

Then why did it feel like he’d been punched in the gut?

This had been another lesson he’d learned since he’d arrived here, one a lot harder to learn then what was the best shape for a gun or standard Armada codes of conduct. After Clarxine’s outburst back in the Council chamber 626 had expected some distrust and bigotry from the less open-minded, but not the sheer vitriol some of his fellow cadets had lobbed at him. True, most of them had more or less accepted him as one of them and a few like Spon had even befriended the experiment, but no matter what there as always a few in each group that thought of him as Jumba’s abomination. He imagined some of it was jealousy at the new creation who had just been plopped in their midst and suddenly began excelling at everything, but still, these were all adults; he’d expected them to be a bit more mature about it.

Not so, and since he’d come here 626 had lost count of the amount of glares, curses, and mutterings he’d been subjected to. None of them went so far as to physically harm him, unlike other targets, but as this was more due to a shared revulsion at the idea of being in contact with the body of an illegal genetic experiment it wasn’t exactly that much of a relief to think about.

Still, it was time to get going, so 626 put on his gear and forced himself to pay attention to the instructor.

“Alright men, your goal today is to descend to the bottom of that ravine.” He gestured to the training space, which had been configured to look like a deep pit with a small path down. Guarding the path was what appeared to be a mobile gunnery platform, and at the bottom of the pit there was a small, glowing object.

“You’ll all have to make your way past that platform and into the bottom. Once there, proceed to the other side while carrying the data core. You drop it, you all fail. Any questions?”

They all nodded.

“Good. Now get to it!”

The five cadets divvied up their roles: Sheral would take point, the raptrian (whose name, it turned out, was Dixon) would follow behind and watch his back, 626 and Spon would guard the sides, and Mikkk would guard the rear. Then, they were off.

At first, the path was relatively easy by training standards: the training room itself was roughly a thousand feet across, and as the gunnery platform was nestled right towards the middle there was little opposition. The few dummy soldiers that did pop up were easily dispatched by Sheral and Dixon, leaving everyone else little to do.

Unfortunately, free of distractions 626 couldn’t help but dwell on him and Dixon’s first meeting and all the other ones of the same ilk. _Why do they hate me like this? I mean, this is beyond jealousy_. On Obrea’s advice he’d tried to keep his head down a bit; he wasn’t showing off, he let everyone else answer questions, and generally tried to be as supportive as he could. _It’s been a month. Why do they still care? I’m not any different from them. Can’t they see that. Is it something I’m –_

A bolt of plasma cut into his thoughts. They’d run straight into the platform while he was daydreaming, and as he tried to gather himself a massive cannon launched an equally massive hit of payload at the five cadets.

“Everyone, scatter!” He heard Mikkk shout. Looking around, 626 just barely had time to see Sheral and Dixon dive behind a rock before Spon grabbed his lower arms and yanked him into a ditch.

“Well, this is just WONDERFUL.” the Amuan muttered. “Any chance you have some mystical ability coded into you like laser shields are something?” He gazed at 626, who was still trying to gather himself. “Helooooooo, Turo to 626.”

“Hmmm? Uh, no. Maybe we could outrun it?”

“What, run a hundred miles per hour? Wait – can you actually do that?”

626 shook his head.

“Then why bring it up?”

“Because I have no idea what to do.”

Spon rolled his eyes. “Fine. Let’s…just shimmy down the ditch or something.”

They did, and fortunately it eventually ran up with another ditch near the rock Sheral and Dixon had gone behind, reuniting the four.

“Any ideas?” Spon asked. “626 and I are out.”

Dixon stopped tending to a burn on Shural’s arm long enough to fire off a sarcastic comment.

“Oh, shut up, asshole.” Spon glared at the raptrian.

Sheral lurched to his feet and stepped between the two. “Guys, stay focused. We need to figure out how to stop that cannon ASAP. Now, from what we noticed earlier it seems like this ditch runs up to the side of it, giving us a clear way to get up and deactivate it. The only problem is that for a good fifty feet we’ll be sitting avians.”

“Any way to distract it?” Spon asked.

“Not from here. Now, depending on where Mikkk is maybe he could do _something_ , but as of yet we don’t have a clue – save that, as the simulation’s still going, he hasn’t been shot yet.”

626 looked around. Where was he? He had to be somewhere, and there weren’t that many places to hide. 626 thought for a moment – he’d been behind them all, so he’d probably gone for a hiding spot some ways away from the rest of them. He looked up. Of course! There had been an artificial land bridge about twenty feet back from the spot they’d all scattered, and from here it looked reasonably sturdy. Now, if only he could get a good enough angle to look…

626 snuck about a yard back through the ditch. It wasn’t much, but he thought he saw the sensory tendrils hanging down from the side of the Catonian’s head. 626 crawled back to the others.

“I’m pretty sure that Mikkk’s under the bridge we crossed. It looks sturdy enough to hide behind, and from where he was when the path went kaboom it was pretty close.”

Sheral crawled out and looked over. “Seems so. Now: any idea how to get his attention? Don’t think yelling’ll work and we can’t just waltz over.”

“Can we do Morse or something?” Spon asked.

“With what?”

626 had an idea. “Sidearms. We fire off blasts with our gun in the right pattern, and that could work. We’ll have to be brief, though.”

Sheral and Spon nodded. “Might do the trick.” They handed him their weapons, and 626 turned to Dixon. The raptrian just glared.

“You’re not getting your mitts on my gun, trog.”

626 clenched his fists and tried to ignore him. Then, going back to the task at hand, he fired.

_Blast Blast_ **M?** _Blast Blast_ **M?**

_Blast Blastblast Blast Blast_ **Y?**

626 grinned. It was working! **Plan.**

**What?**

626 thought. How to get it across in a brief manner? He switched to Kuhio’s gun. **Dist.**

**W?**

**Trick. Y. Run. We. Hide. Cut.**

**Cut?**

**Cannon.**

**Roger.**

From there, it was just a simple matter of Mikkk running out and shouting at the top of his lungs while the rest of them crawled through the ditch. Spon shot the cannon’s power pack and deactivated it while Sheral and Dixon cleared out everything else, and 626 grabbed the ‘data core’. Mikk then joined them on the pacified platform, and the reunited squad made their way out. It was a pass. Not exactly with flying colors and their instructor made sure to point out that their little morse trick would probably have given away their positions in a fight with other sentients, but it worked well enough.

626 made his way to the bathroom, and cried.

A couple minutes later he heard the door open and tried to wipe the tears away, but before he could Spon grabbed him and whirled him around. The Amuan’s face immediately softened.

“What happened in there wasn’t your fault, buddy. You had an off day. Everyone has those.” Then he smiled. “Besides, you still saved our asses with that Morse-via-gun trick of yours.”

626 fought to keep it together. “It’s not – it’s not that. It’s Dixon. Before we went down he…” He explained their talk.

“Gods, man, what a douche. Well, he’s just one guy.”

626 shook his head. “It’s not just him. There’s others.”

“Like?”

That opened the floodgates, and before 626 knew it he was back in Spon’s room reciting the litany of abuse he’d accrued over the past month while desperately trying to keep himself composed.

Spon, to his credit, just sat and listened and tried not to think about how awkward the situation was. After 626 had calmed down a bit, he grabbed both of the experiment’s upper arms.

“626, I’m going to be very clear with you. Screw them. Screw all of them. Most of us here? We like you just fine. You’re smart, and badass, and actually pretty nice, and I’m glad I met you.”

“Thanks. I mean it.”

“No problem. Now, let’s get dinner.”

The two got up, exited the room, and then promptly ran into Dixon halfway down the hallway, who 626 noticed was still heavily burned from the training exercise. Spon stepped up to him.

“So, I here that you got into it with my little friend here.”

“What of it? It’s not like you should care.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

“Because that...thing… is an abomination. Why else?.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” Spon smiled, winked at Dixon, and punched him right on the burn. Twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, I'd planned on waiting another couple weeks before posting this, but when you get 200 views your hiatus plans get a bit interrupted by celebratory moods.


	12. More Lessons

Chapter 12: More Lessons

_-Turian Armada Academy, 19:45 Turo Standard Time-_

“So, you mind telling me why the three of you decided to start brawling in the middle of the hallway?” Commandant Kuhio glared at the three of them from across his desk.

626 shuffled in his seat, guilty. While he certainly _was_ happy to see Dixon getting some level of comeuppance for his bigotry, 626 would have rather it happened in a way that didn’t involve him, Dixon and Kuhio getting dragged in for a disciplinary hearing. What if he got washed out? Or worse, what if he stayed and _Spon_ got the boot? How much guilt would that cause?

Still, stewing wouldn’t do anyone any good, and one of the lessons 626 had learned both at his trial and in the month since was that he who spoke first had a good chance at directing the flow of conversation. Thus, he summoned up his courage and spoke up.

“Cadet Spon was defending me, sir. Cadet Dixon had spent much of the day during our training session and afterwards insulting me with a wide variety of statements along the lines of ‘you’re an abomination and shouldn’t be here’ or ‘get back to the lab.’

“And how does this justify assaulting him?”

“Well, to be fair,” Spon spoke up ( _Please let him stay civil,_ 626 prayed), “626 wasn’t the one who initiated the fighting. _I_ was. And the reason why I did so, uh, sir, sorry I’d forgotten to say that earlier (626 had to resist the urge to facepalm, and the tiniest smirk began growing on Dixon’s otherwise-stoic mug), was because I felt as though his comments had had a significant effect on our training. In addition, from what 626 told me when we had been talking before it seemed as though these sorts of comments weren’t an isolated event from Cadet Dixon.”

“So instead of talking things out you decided to make an example of him, is that what you are saying?”

Spon blushed, and as he did 626 couldn’t help but think that his friend _had_ sort of been implying that. Accidentally. He hoped.

Kuhio shook his head. “Honestly…in what _universe_ would that have crossed your mind as a good idea?” He sighed, and then turned to Dixon. “Nevertheless, it appears that you do bear some level of culpability for your beating, if what 626 and Spon says is true. Or do you have another side to tell?”

“This ought to be good,” Spon whispered, mercifully quiet enough that neither Dixon nor the commandant heard.

Dixon shot a quick look at the other two before he began speaking. “I will admit that I may have acted…condescendingly towards cadet 626, but the matter stands that 626 _did_ freeze up and get lost in himself during training. I was merely aggravated.”

“Actually, sir,” Spon interjected, “according to 626 cadet Dixon was an ass-was saying bigoted comments before training even began. How could he have been aggravated before we even started the training sim?”

The commandant merely glared at him for interrupting before continuing to question Dixon.

“That may be, but as our friend here just demonstrated you need to consider your circumstances before you speak or act. What if your comments lowered squad morale to the point that your task was a complete failure.” At that Dixon at least had the decency to look slightly contrite.

Then Kuhio then turned back to 626. “How impactful would you say that these statements had on your performance?”

“Very, sir. I spent most of the descent mulling them over, and as such missed the cannon burst that separated us.”

“I understand.”

The questioning continued that line for another 15 minutes, at the end of which the three received their sentences: as a bystander 626 got off lightest, merely being forced to run laps out in the exercise yard, while Dixon had to both run laps and miss dinner while poor Spon had to run laps, skip dinner, _and_ got put on latrine duty. As they walked back to their quarters, it was clear that the Amuan was slightly annoyed.

“If you’re wondering why I let you two go at it without intervening,” 626 began to break the tension, “I…didn’t think my involvement would be a good idea.”

“And why not? It’s not like he could actually hurt you, Mr. Bulletproof.” As 626 had suspected, his friend wasn’t in the best mood.

“No, it’s not that. I just…thought if I beat up Dixon that it wouldn’t play well.”

Spon snorted. “Play well? What, like on stage?”

“Look. There are still a _lot_ of people out there that think of me as a monster. And not just stupid-heads like Dixon or the other people here. I’m talking about people with influence. Councilors and policemen and such.” As 626 spoke, he remembered what people in the Council had said about him just being a trap lying in wait. “So, if I go around punching people, it seems like I really am as violent as they feared.”

“I guess I understand?” Spon didn’t look fully convinced, but before they could continue talking they game to the bathroom. “Well, guess I’d better start my duties.” And with a look of abject despair, Spon left 626 alone in the hallway.

For his part, 626 returned to his room and thought. What to do next? If things went as was, he worried that word could get around that he was either a tattler or a coward who hid behind other cadets’ skirts.

_How to change that?_

***

Fortunately, the next morning presented an opportunity, as during breakfast all there was to eat was a sort of white gloop from a planet called “E-Arth” that apparently was called “mashed potatoe”. 626 looked around, saw where Dixon was sitting, did some quick geometry, and then tapped Spon on the shoulder.

“Know what your biggest problem is when it comes to training?”

The Amuan narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

626 smirked. “Just watch.” Then, turning around, 626 grabbed a spoon of the mashed potatoe in each of his arms and lobbed it. With an elegancy completely unexpected of white gloop, the four spoonfuls all managed to ricochet their way neatly onto Dixon’s trousers. The raptrian _yelped_ , leaped about a mile into the air, and glanced around wildly as 626 and Spon fought to keep from laughing.

“The point of that was,” 626 finally managed to choke out between stifled chuckles, “was to show what you lack: subtlety.”

“How on _Turo_ was that subtle?”

626 raised a finger, “Does Dixon _know_ who threw that? No. But he suspects, although I know and he knows there’s no way to prove it. Meaning?”

Spon frowned, trying to figure it out. “Meaning…that he knows that you can get at him in ways he can’t get you back for?”

626’s only response was to grin.

“Exactly.”

“So now he won’t talk about yesterday and hopefully will shut up in the future?”

626 merely dug into the mashed potatoe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: this work's actually featured on the TVTropes page for Lilo & Stitch fanfic recommendations!


	13. Escape

_-Prison Asteroid K-37, Xenon Sector, 2:00 Turo Standard Time_

Day in, day out, the past three months at Prison Asteroid K-37 had proven nothing short of monotonous. As it turned out, a life sentence for terrorism and illegal genetic experimentation earned one nothing less than a cramped cell in the most secure part of the asteroid, leaving Dr. Jumba Jookiba with nothing to do but fritter away the hours away in his cell and wait for the one hour he could go wander around a concrete pit. And even then, his reputation as “the scientist who played God” preceded him, earning him nothing but glares from entirely foolish or inane questions from the mostly foolish.

_At least I’m not in restraint disk_ , he’d tried to tell himself several times. Not that it helped. He’d tried to figure out a way to break out, but no dice-his cell was completely devoid of anything but a bed and a rudimentary bathroom system, and unless he figured out how to contort his body enough to fit down a sewage pipe he wasn’t going anywhere. Of course, 626 could have, but seeing as the traitorous bastard was the entire reason he was wasting away here that wasn’t an option. In short, Jumba was on the verge of accepting that he would just have to sit tight and rot for the next five decades or so.

It was as he was thinking this over that his cell door opened. A guard entered with a loaf of bread, looking rather nervous.

“Bread? At two in the morning?” Jumba chuckled. “Is my stay in these fine accommodations about to come to an end?”

The guard didn’t respond, and continued to look as though he wanted to be on the other side of the universe.

“Eh, we shall see.” Sure enough, baked into the middle of the bread was a key. _To the cell?_ Jumba thought. He held it up, examined it, and as he did noticed that the guard was now shaking. “Now I expect that you’re worried that you’re about to die?”

The only response was a frightened squeak.

Jumba got up and patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, my friend. After all, you seem harmless enough. Questions I would like to avoid.” The guard emitted a noise so high-pitched that Jumba was surprised he could actually hear it. The Kweltikwan gave the poor sap a reassuring smile, and then jabbed the key into his throat. “Of course, knocking you out is entirely different story.” He then slid the key into the door and was on his merry way down the hall.

He had been on the move for about ten minutes before the alarms sounded. Smiling, he wedged himself into an alcove in the wall and waited. If he wanted to go further, it would be best to have a weapon.

Sure enough, within a few minutes a patrol wandered by. _And nicely armed with guns **I** designed, I might add_.

“Howell, make sure to watch the back,” the leader was saying as they walked by Jumba’s hiding place. “Alli, take the left side. Nellar, take the right.”

So Nellar it was, then. As the quartet passed by Jumba sprung out, grabbing Nellar and snapping her neck. As she fell to the floor Jumba yanked her plasma gun out of her hand and immediately fired it at the leader.

To their credit, Alli and Howell immediately spun around and trained their weapons on the escaped prisoner. “Drop the weapon and get on the ground!” Howell barked.

Jumba smirked. “And why would I do that?”

“I said: drop. your. weapon.”

Jumba lowered his stolen weapon a fraction of an inch. “You know, I designed these weapons, back in Galaxy Defense days.” The two guards stood firm, unsure of where he was going with this. “Of course, there was always one flaw that I was never able to fix in their design.” He smiled. “But maybe you managed to?” Before the two guards could react Jumba fired a quick shot at his target.

Upon making contact with the power pack about midway down Alli’s gun, the plasma exploded. Jumba gazed at the crater where the two soldiers had been and continued speaking as though it were nothing more than a lesson. “I guess not. Unfortunately, for whatever reason the plasma reacts to any contact with emitter fluid by exploding. Perhaps it has something to do with the supercharged nature of the plasma?”

Alli and Howell, or rather the charred remnants of their bodysuits, had no response.

“Feh, I suppose it doesn’t really matter.” Jumba rounded the next corner, and saw that whoever was in control of security had activated the patrol droids. He ducked back out of sight, thinking. The trick with the plasma shot wouldn’t work on these; they would still explode, but it would be a normal machine explosion instead of the more dramatic reaction he’d used earlier.

_What to do? Think, Jumba, think._ He looked back around the corner and saw that a couple of the patrol droids were coming this way. _I need solution now!_ Jumba took stock of his surroundings. In this hallway there was no way to simply dodge past them, and the fact that the prison had entered lockdown meant that all the cells were sealed behind bulletproof doors. _Maybe I can get one to destroy other?_ It bore thinking about. He looked around the corner again. Was there any way to maneuver the first one so that it would be in the sights of the second?

As he looked, he noticed that the one in front was clearly a leader of sorts-the other always followed directly behind it, but only after a few milliseconds of delay. Presumably this arrangement would end if they needed to properly line up against a prisoner, but before then there was likely a short window where he could trick the back one into firing against the first.

Thinking fast, he noticed that the visual processors on the patrol droids were both located on the upper portion of the central processor. As such, he guessed, there was probably a gap in their field lower down. Would a very low throw work, perhaps? Something that would slip in the gap of the leader but not the follower? _Yes. That should work._ But what to throw? And how to parlay that into the friendly fire he needed.

The solution came to him. _My shirt! Of course!_ Jumba ripped off the ridiculous prison shirt they’d saddled him with the moment he set foot on the asteroid, balled it up, and used the sleeves to tie it together. Then, trying to ignore the sudden awareness of his body size, Jumba hurled it against the floor.

As he’d hoped, the simple processor in the backup unit registered the shirt as an enemy and fired, splashing the leader with some of the payload. Then, in a move that was both unexpected and gloriously welcome, the leader registered the splash as a hostile attack and began firing back at the follower, which then registered _that_ as an attack…

Needless to say, Jumba continued on without further issue from the two patrol droids.

Finally, finally, Jumba stole into the hangar, where to his delight he saw the two-person manta shuttle from his lab waiting. He crossed to it, hopped in the passenger seat, and turned to the pilot.

“I see that you got the motion controls working.” Jumba laughed at the absurd sight of a small rodent buckled into the drivers seat so high up that he wasn’t even actually in the seat so much as suspended above it.

“Shut up, you four-eyed-fatso. These seats need adjusting.”

“Is nice to see you too, Dr. Hämsterviel.”

The shuttle took off and made it into hyperdrive, Dr. Hämsterviel activated the autopilot and turned to the escaped prisoner. “Now then, shall we go back to your lab and start experimenting on some experiments?”

Jumba grinned. “Certainly. After all, we need to make a new 626.”


	14. Flight Test

_-Turian Armada Academy, 7:00 Turo Standard Time-_

“Did you see the headline?” The second 626 had entered the cafeteria Mikk had worked his way over, copy of the _Fleemzorg Weekly Gazette_ in hand.

626 shook his head. “Everything alright?” Mikk had a grimmer expression on his face than he’d seen before.

Wordlessly, Mikk held up the front page of the newspaper. Emblazoned in bold headlines were the words “BIOTERRORIST ESCAPES”, and below them were the mugshots of a certain rather-familiar Kweltikwan.

_Blitznak_ , 626 thought, _how in SPACE did he escape?_ Just as he had on the _Durgon_ 626 suddenly felt a large swooping sensation and the (mercifully slight) urge to throw up. He kept reading:

_At 2:00 This morning TST, Dr. Jumba Jookiba escaped his maximum-security cell on Prison Asteroid K-37 by somehow coercing a guard to open his cell door. Dr. Jookiba then stole the guard’s key and fled, killing several guards and disabling multiple security guards before escaping with the help of an as-yet unknown accomplice in what is believed to be his personal shuttle. Readers are to be reminded that Dr. Jookiba is to be avoided at all costs and is to be considered highly dangerous. If you believe that you have information to report about the escaped criminal, Armada Central Command has created a hotline at the number 1031-1942-0303-2018_. The rest of the article gave a brief rundown of Jumba’s crimes and concluded with speculation on to where he would be headed. 626 finished reading, folded up the paper, and tried to ignore his spinning head.

“Well, at least he probably knows better than to try to come after you again.” Spon tried to give a reassuring smile. “After what happened last time I don’t think he’ll risk it.”

“Honestly he might just make for some bolt-hole in the middle of nowhere and lay low for now.” Mikk suggested. “It’s what I would do.”

“Can we not talk about this now? It’s test day.” Although 626 was glad that his friends were trying to cheer him up, he really didn’t want to get drawn into a long discussion on Jumba the day of their flight test. After all, today was the day he’d get to strut his stuff and finally get back in the pilot seat of a cruiser. If everything went well it meant that he could graduate to more advanced training and get the chance to actually fly, so 626 was determined not to let the matter of his renegade creator interfere with his focus. 

Mikk and Kuhio looked at each-other and shrugged. “Fine,” said Spon, “but just so you know I’ve already let it be known that if anyone wants to accuse you of playing some role in this their welcome to meet me behind the kitchen dumpster to talk about it.”

626 snorted and went back to his breakfast.

After breakfast it was off to the hangar bay to receive instructions for testing. The flight instructor, an old Armada fellow named Dyn who Obrea had spoken fairly highly of in the past, began telling the cadets about their test for the day.

“Now this test will consist of two parts. Obviously a big part of flying is actually knowing how to handle your ship, so each of you will be tested on that individually. This portion will take up the morning, and while each of you is tested I expect the others to be waiting quietly and reviewing the material.”

“Shouldn’t we be watching the previous tests, sir? So we know what to expect?” It was a cadet 626 didn’t really know well who answered, a girl by the name of Melia.

Dyn shook his head. “No. That way everyone has the same amount of awareness going in. It also tests how you react to unexpected developments. Obviously, this is another part of flying well. After I finish testing all of you, you will have an hour to go your own way for lunch. Then, once that hour is up I expect to see all of you in the flight simulator room so we can test how you fly in a combat group. Obviously we can’t hurl actual enemy fighters at you and risk killing you, so this is the best substitute. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir!” The cadets answered.

“Good.” He looked over the group, choosing who would be the first victim. “Dixon. You’re up.”

The Raptrian grunted an affirmative and followed behind. As he left Spon turned to the rest of them and asked, “Who wants to start a betting pool on how many times Dyn says ‘obviously’ before the day is out?”

626 wound up going third, after Dixon had finished (and strutted back through looking quite smug, 626 thought) and that Melia girl (Who had come back similarly pleased, if a bit humbler about it). He followed Dyn into the hangar, stopping when the instructor leaned against a modified police cruiser. 626 looked out past him and saw that the hangar was open – he could make out what looked to be some sort of electric net in the distance, as well as a few of the cannons they used in ground training. _Well, least there’s one familiar obstacle_ , he thought.

The test, as it turned out, was fairly simple: all 626 had to do was fly through the obstacle course without getting his ship too banged up while hitting all twenty relay points in order. If 626 took too long or the ship sustained enough ‘damage’ that would be problematic in real life, he would automatically fail.

“I imagine that this seems easy, but obviously I’ll be throwing in some wrinkles to keep you on your toes. You do have toes, right? You look like you would. Anyways, the cruiser has a radio system in it, and I will be on the other end. That way I can keep you appraised of your progress, and if you do happen to earn a premature fail I’ll obviously radio that along. Is that clear?”

626 had to fight back the urge to say ‘seems obvious enough’ and instead settled for just thinking _Five._ If Dyn made it to ten but not to thirteen, he’d stand a good shot of both passing his flight exam and earning a decent bit of pocket change on the side.

626 turned on the engine and booted up the systems, listening to the _purr_ of the engine. God, it felt good to be back in an actual pilot seat.

“Engine, Check. Auto Brake, Off. Compass Controllers, Slaved. Emergency Lights, Armed. Seat Belt, On.” And on and on it went, until 626 had gone through the entire list. _Huh. Programming’s really coming in handy. Thanks, Jumba. For once._ Jumba. _Hmmm. Where’s he off to right now? I doubt he’s stupid to go back to the lab, but maybe that Gapra planet? Might be a good place for a scientist._ 626 realized his focus was drifting and shook his head. _Focus!_ He activated the engine and took off towards the first relay point.

“Apologies for the slight delay in takeoff,” he announced as it seemed the smart thing to do, “I had to clear my head for a moment.”

“Stay focused, cadet.” Was the only response.

The first obstacle was easy to circumvent: the relay point hung directly from the roof of the hangar, so all 626 had to do was fly just high enough to hit it without tagging the roof. Then he was out in the open sky, free to maneuver how he wished. The next two relay points were similarly easy, simply floating freely in the sky. 626 hit the earlier of the two and made a quick 60 degree turn to hit the next.

Then, the net activated. 626 could see that the next few relay points were located between gaps in the electricity. It looked like this would require a bit of tricky maneuvering. _At least, tricky to someone else._ He grinned. Compared to the net outside Jumba’s lab, this was nothing. _Heh, maybe I’ll be the one to catch him. Again._

Suddenly, 626 realized that he was right on top of the net; he’d lost focus again! _Blitznak!_ He slammed on the break, waited for his cruiser to point straight down, and gunned it. He just barely managed to hit the fourth relay point, but managed cleaner hits on the next three. _Quarter of the way there_ , he thought. Then, he was out of the net. Before he got to the next hazard he admonished himself. _Stay focused, damn it!_

He was flying over what looked to be open grassland with nothing in front of him to suggest a challenge. _What’s going on?_

Dyn provided the answer. “The next bit will be a laser-simulated mountain. We obviously don’t want to risk losing either a cadet or that cruiser in a collision with a real one if we can help it ( _six,_ 626 thought to himself), but you’ll still register as a collision should you graze the ‘sides’. The lasers then flared to life, and 626 whistled as he saw a mountain spring up before his very eyes. The next eight relay points were situated at different points here and there, and it looked like he would have to fly through a simulated tunnel to get to them. As he approached the mountain 626 noticed that the ‘tunnel’ only gave enough clearance to squeeze through and maybe maneuver up and down a smidge. _Hell of a tight fit_.

The first couple relay points were easy enough as all 626 had to do was follow the path, but from there things got quite a bit harder: suddenly the passageway began to squeeze and cut at odd angles, and halfway between the fifth and sixth the passageway took such a hard turn back down that 626 grazed the cockpit against the lasers.

_Small dents detected,_ the computer informed him, _and slight loss of paint._

626 groaned. “Shut up.” Hopefully that wouldn’t be too many points lost, but still. He could do better than that. And to prove it, he made _extra_ sure to watch out for the last few twists and turns. And then, he was out. Now all that was left were five points on the way home, and he just had to get past a few cannons. Thankfully he’d made extra sure to study the way they worked and how they tracked, and he’d come up with an unorthodox solution: as he approached the first relay point of the five, he immediately shot at a hard left towards one of the cannons. He flew directly at it and then looped back around towards the relay point fast enough that the cannon directly behind it didn’t have time to recalibrate its shot. Thus, as 626 hit the relay marker one cannon hit the other. “Haha!” He grinned. It worked! A few more bobs and weaves later, and he was back in the hangar after a quick little snap-flourish at the end.

Dyn greeted him as he exited. “That was impressive, 626. Obviously ( _eight_ ) there’s room for improvement, but your method of dealing with the cannons was unorthodox and clever.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Still, your experiences with the net and in the tunnel show that you still need to work on your focus. I suggest you keep that in mind. You are dismissed. Feel free to do whatever you wish until 1500 hours, at which point I will see you in the flight simulators.”

626 walked back through where the other cadets were waiting. When he heard Dyn announce “Spon” he wished his friend luck and then left. Time for lunch and more studying.


	15. Combat Test

_-Turian Armada Academy, 14:00 Turo Standard Time-_

With an hour to go until he was to report to the flight simulator, 626 thought about what he knew of the other cadets:

Dixon would likely ignore him during most of the test, not actively hindering him but not going out of his way to help him. That being said, 626 had noticed that the raptrian had a very high sense of duty towards his fellow cadets – at least the ones from ‘normal’ species – and as such could likely be counted on to at least watch the backs of the others. In addition, as a raptrian Dixon had a slightly wider viewing range than was the norm for most sentient species (including 626 himself). Thus 626 imagined that he would naturally play more of a support role, and he would play that role well.

As for Spon, the Amuan would likely prove rather problematic. His four arms would provide him ample dexterity, as 626 could attest from his own experiences, but the fact that he was rather hot blooded would be…problematic to put it delicately. In short: good flier, terrible fighter.

The others were more unknown. Based off her reaction to the flight test 626 assumed that Melia was a good flier, but he had no idea about her species other than that they were small and pink, so he had no idea what to expect on that front. The fifth and sixth members of their flight he knew nothing about and would have to hope for the best. It wasn’t much to go on, sure, but at least it was _something._ He flipped through his textbook for the fifth time. Was there anything there he could use? Just in case, he went to the started re-reading anyways.

Before he knew it, his clock _dinged_ an alarm 15 minutes before he had to get to the simulation room. 626 put the book away, took a deep breath, and then left. By the time he showed up to the training room everyone was there save Dixon. The cadets waited in silence for the sixth member of the flight to show up, too nervous to speak to one another. Finally he came in a few minutes before the test started, and Dyn began speaking.

“As I said before, the next part of the test will simulate what would happen if you were caught in a firefight. Normally you would have some sort of commanding officer giving you instructions, but as all of you are of equal rank and have similar amounts of knowledge that obviously ( _Nine. One more!_ ) cannot be the case here. So, for our purposes, assume that your commander got shot down after giving you the following instructions: ‘Target the gun turrets on the capital ship up ahead, and clear the way for the strike force to take a shot at the bridge.’ Are there any questions?”

None of the cadets were quite sure how to respond. It certainly was a…unique premise. Dyn then called it good, and into the simulators they went. 626 sat in, buckled up, and waited for the screen to begin. _Please let this go well,_ he thought.

With a _whoosh_ the screen activated and the six cadets found themselves in hell. Apparently ‘see how you do in a combat scenario’ meant ‘drop you directly into the middle of a kriffing free-for-all’, and as 626 looked outside the “cockpit” it was pandemonium.

His comm flared to life as he heard Spon shout “what the hell _is_ all this?” 626 looked to his left and saw that his friend had somehow managed to gain the attention of an enemy fighter and was currently giving his all just to avoid getting shot at.

Another set of lasers seared over from above 626 and destroyed the enemy fighter. “Easy there, Spon.” Dixon’s voice was surprisingly level. “Everyone, form up around the experiment.”

“I’m named 626, damn it!”

Dixon ignored him. “It seems things are a bit more hectic than we anticipated –”

“No _shit_!” One of the unknowns yelled, arcing in front of 626 and blasting an enemy fighter. “What’s the plan?”

“As things stand there’s no way for us to actually get to the turrets without getting blasted out of the sky,” Melia began, “so I think we should split up and have some of us focus on clearing the way for the others?”

“Split up? Are you _crazy?_ ” Spon sounded like she’d just suggested that he sell himself into slavery.

626 swerved to avoid a laser blast. “She’s got a point. As things are there are too many things shooting at us to make a clean go at it. And we can’t pass this if most of us get shot down before we even get halfway to the ship?”

“But even then –” It was the other unknown.

“Hate to admit it,” Dixon chimed in, “but the experiment’s on to something. Like he said there’s too much fire out there for us to get through safely. Jol, can you see the turrets from where you are?”

“Yes.” It was the first unknown, who apparently was named Jol. “It honestly looks fairly small. I think that we really only need one person to do the job.”

626 nodded. “Good to know. Of course we should probably have it be two people, just to keep each other safe and for one person to take the shot if the other misses or falls.” There was a chorus of agreement.

“It’s settled then. Melia, Spon, take the starboard side. Partick and I will take port. 626, you and Jol are in charge of the turrets.”

626 blinked. “Wait – did you actually just put me in charge of something?”

“Save it.” Dixon growled. “It’s what needs to be done.”

“Can you say that again? That last bit?”

“Grow up, you two.” Partick blasted a fighter that had been heading right for 626, who had been too busy savoring the moment to notice.

626 blushed. “Point taken.” He and Jol detached from the other four. “Jol, I want you to keep eyes out for anything coming towards us while I focus on the turrets. Is that good with you.”

“Yep.”

“Good. Now let’s go!” The two advanced, and as they did every so often 626 could see one of the other four on the periphery. They did their jobs well and the way was surprisingly clear, although more than once 626 had to resist the urge to veer off and save Spon's skin from an errant laser or missed enemy.

It was good that he did, because even with the four on cleanup 626 and Jol had more than their fair share of problems. “Missiles incoming at three o’clock!” Jol shouted. 626 looked over and swore. They weren’t homing missiles, thankfully, but there still were a hell of a lot of them. 626 spun the wheel and threw his ship into a tight corkscrew, just barely evading the first wave. When he got out of it he flipped on the comm. “Still in one piece?”

“Affirmative.” Jol sounded rather unsettled, but still alive. “Second wave incoming in half a minute!”

626 looked around. “This is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to go get some attention.” Before he could explain he zipped off towards a pair of fighters and then turned back towards the missiles. As they launched 626 deployed his cannon and sent four precise shots at the fighters, disabling them.

“Now we have a bit of cover.”

“Huh.” Jol was impressed. “That might actually work.”

“Is there a third wave?”

“Yes, but from the looks of it that one might take a bit longer to get active.”

“Understood. Make a break for it now?”

“Affirmative.”

The two shot forwards. Now they were right in front of the turrets now. Jol broke off and began to circle around the outside, drawing their fire while also keeping watch for anything that might try and waylay them. _Brave,_ 626 thought, _very brave._ Then, focusing on the task at hand, he re-deployed his cannon and lined up on the first target.

_Bam_

One turret down.

_Bam_

That made two.

_Bam_

Three. They were golden!

626 heard a little chime announcing that the simulation was over and hopped out of his cockpit the second it opened. As he did he noticed that Kuhio looked rather green in the face. Before he could go to his friend, however, Dyn addressed the group.

“Excellent work. Although it is likely that had that been a real battle cadets Spon and Melia would have required aid within the next few minutes to avoid being shot down, overall I would say that everyone performed in an extremely competent manner.” He then began to address all the cadets one-by-one. “Cadet Dixon. You kept a cool head in the middle of a firefight that men years more experienced than you would be hard-pressed to match. Cadet Partrick, had this been a real battle you would have earned yourself the distinction of ‘flying ace’. You shot down more enemies than the rest of the flight combined.” Partrick beamed. “Cadet Spon, although you were far too reckless you have a natural feel for your cruiser that should serve you well. Cadet Melia, like Dixon you are immensely calm under pressure. In addition, you seem to have a gift for predicting which targets you should prioritize. Cadet Jol, you have keen eyes that are frankly astonishing. In addition, you are clearly very brave, although I must stress that your distraction at the end to clear the way for cadet 626 ran the high risk of getting you killed. And speaking of,” 626 tensed slightly, “Cadet 626, like Spon you have a natural feel for your cruiser and like Partrick you are an excellent shot. You also have quite the spark of creativity, as well as the improvisational skills to put that spark to good use.” 626 opened his mouth to thank him, but before he could Dyn held up a finger. “However, you still need to work on your focus. Your interactions with cadet Dixon were childish and nearly got you shot down.”

Dyn then addressed the cadets as a group once more. “Still, it should be clear that this counts as a pass for all of you. Should you so desire, proper flight training is open to all six of you. Now if you excuse me, I must enter your results into the computer.”

_Well, damn it. There goes my money._ 626 pulled his share of the pool out of his pocket and gave it to a rather pleased Melia, who suddenly found herself a bit richer and was very happy about it. Spon, after stumbling up and depositing his share in Melia’s hand, promptly turned tail and ran to the bathroom. There, 626 found him retching into the toilet.

Kuhio had been patient enough when 626 had had his emotional collapse, so 626 decided to return the favor by waiting for Spon to finish throwing up. When the Amuan finally lurched his way over to the sink, 626 obligingly flushed behind him and handed over a paper towel.

When Spon finished washing the sick off his face, 626 asked him if he needed help with anything.

“Just get me back to my room. I need to lie down.” 626 did so, and Spon immediately flopped onto the bed. “Well,” he groaned, “I think I’m just gonna stick with ground fighting from now on. ‘Natural feel for your cruiser’ my ass. I’m never setting foot in one of those again.”

“Going to miss seeing you around, though.”

“We’re still going to be in the same building, you dolt. I’ll just be safe on the ground while you zip around in one of those flying coffins.”


	16. Placement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, this chapter's really short, so I'm gonna be posting two this week instead of one to make up for it. Same deal next week since chapter 18's not even a thousand words.

_-Office of the Grand Councilwomen, 16:00 Turo Standard Time-_

So far, the Grandcouncilwoman’s day had been rather pleasant as far was workdays were concerned. The Council wasn’t in session and there were no bills to be deliberated on, so instead she was able to spend a lively few hours meeting with some lobbyists from the Ploion system who wanted to butter her up in favor of reconsidering the Federation’s leaning on the Tissian group for naval ships. Sure, it had been at least 50% bald-face manipulation, but it was still a pleasant way to spend lunchtime. 

Her next item, unfortunately, was going to be a lot less pleasant. She keyed up her personal communicator, paged the _Durgon_ , and asked for Captain Gantu.

“Grand Councilwoman.” He responded when he finally got to the bridge. “Do what do I owe this pleasure?”

“It concerns Experiment 626.”

Gantu frowned. “Is everything alright?”

“Has Commandant Kuhio been in touch with you about his performance in the academy?”

The captain nodded. “Kuhio gives me weekly updates. Why?”

The Councilwoman took a deep breath. “I met with the naval board of admirals yesterday. Now that 626 is on the cusp of graduating I wished to know their recommendations for his first station. Their response was…” She faltered, not sure how best to proceed.

“Let me guess. Some backwater station somewhere in the middle of dead space.”

“The one orbiting Rivera 876, to be precise.”

Gantu was incredulous. “Reltub Station? That can’t be right.” Located on the night side of a tidally-locked planet some five hundred degrees hot on the light side and twice as frigid on the cold, Reltub Station had obtained a reputation as equally unpleasant as the planet and as such had acquired the unofficial job of being the Armada’s dumping ground for malcontents.

“On the contrary, they were quite clear on the matter. They said something about 626 having disciplinary problems at the academy?”

_Ah._ Gantu suddenly understood. _That was it._ It was true that 626 had frequently gotten into it with one specific cadet, a Raptrian named Beforce Dixon, but from Kuhio’s reports it seemed to be mostly just a low-level student rivalry: insults between classes and occasional mysterious incidents of thrown food that couldn’t technically be blamed on either party, but nothing that impacted their performance in the classroom or in training. The fact that they saw clear to try and spin this into ‘serious disciplinary issues’ meant that it was clear that the idiots at the NBA were quite a bit more closed-minded than he figured and he told the Councilwoman as such.

She shook her head. “I feared as much. Still, besides this one case 626 seems to be a model student. I can’t understand why they would be so vitriolic.”

“As the saying goes, milady, you see what you expect to see. I fear that they belong to the ‘626 is a monster’ camp, and therefore have taken what seems to just be a petty student rivalry and decided that it vindicates their fears.” 

The Councilwoman snorted. “Naturally. Well, at least their recommendations aren’t final. What does Kuhio say on the matter?”

“Kuhio thinks Gapra would be a decent fit.”

“The research station? I think 626 would be a little disappointed to be on guard duty. Or is this because 626 is an experiment? Like goes with like?”

Gantu chuckled. “You need to read more about your science stations, milady. They get incursions all the time that keep the men there plenty busy.”

“Incursions?”

“Protestors, glory hounds, the occasional bio-terrorist.”

The Councilwomen’s jaw dropped. “ _Bio-terrorists?_ The hell kind of research station are they running? I thought it was just an ecological site.”

“The scientists research a mix of ecological subjects and organic technology. Ships with a biological component or exoskeleton-based armor, for example. I’ve been there a few times on Armada business. It’s actually very interesting – you should check it out some time.”

“I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.” She had to resist mentioning that she didn’t exactly have much room to jaunt away on vacation. Gantu was trying to set her at ease, she knew. “In the meantime, I think I should comprise a statement for the Board of Admirals about their 626 problem. Captain Gantu, you are dismissed.”

“Yes ma’am.” The holo winked off, and the Councilwomen was alone in her office again. She sighed and turned back to her computer. _Time to write_.

_To the Naval Board of Admirals_ , she began typing, _I am writing in response to our earlier discussion as to which military site would serve as the best deployment for Cadet Experiment 626 of the Turian Naval Academy. During our discussion you brought to my attention several concerns related to Cadet 626’s conduct during his three years of the academy, and as such recommended that he be deployed to Reltub Station orbiting River 876._

_After communicating with Captain Gantu, who has been receiving weekly communiques from Commandant Li Kuhio regarding Cadet 626. His communiques contradict your account of the problem, as rather than the unruly delinquent portrayed during our discussion it seems more as though any rule-breaking on the part of Cadet 626 has been primarily or almost exclusively limited to a single cadet with a history of bigoted statements and hostile actions. Although this is still not to be condoned as perfect behavior by a military cadet, it is not near the level you attempted to lead me to believe, particularly in light of the fact that it appears that the other cadet (Cadet Beforce Dixon, if you wish to investigate this matter further) instigated their rivalry._

_As such, I am forced to conclude that your recommendations stem not from serious concerns about the behavior of Cadet 626 but from blatant prejudice against him and refusal to see him as any more than an illegal abomination. I cannot change the way you think, although I can implore you to reconsider. Still, because of this I have decided that your recommendations will NOT be passed on with my leave, and if the recommendation that Cadet 626 be stationed at Reltub does happen to make it down the pike I will be sure to issue a statement against it._

_Thank you for your time, esteemed board. My regards,_

_Cald Zeller, Grand Councilwomen of the United Galactic Federation_

She read her statement over and called it good, and sent it.


	17. Graduation

- _Turian Naval Academy, 8:20 Turo Standard Time_ -

After 3 years of studying, tests, and petty little scrapes with a certain Raptrian, 626 was finally ready to graduate. Thus he found himself sitting under the purplish-orange sky of planet Turo along with all the other graduates. Spon was nowhere to be seen: 626 had been seated at the very front (apparently, due to lack of a surname they’d decided that they’d just stick him in the front because the second part of his name started with a number), and so there were about two thousand cadets between the two of them. Nor did he have any idea about the person next to him, having never crossed paths with them in the past three years. So, without anything to distract him, he sat eyes forwards and looked at the military brass. Arrayed a bit in front of the cadets were the various governing boards for each of the military branches, who chatted amongst themselves. Gantu was present as well, as apparently it fell to him as the captain of the Federation navy to give the commencement speech.

As he looked, every so often 626 noticed that the members of the Admiralty board would gesture out at the cadets with unpleasant looks. He didn’t know for sure, but 626 had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with him – they were known, as Spon had so delicately phrased it, for walking around with sticks a yard long up their asses and being so fond of tradition that the very utterance of the word made them all hard. _Hope they don’t try and pull something with me_ , he thought.

Suddenly, 626 noticed that he was being stared at by the person next to him. He looked at them and rolled his eyes. “Can I help you?”

“Are you 626?” They asked.

“Yes?” 626 tensed a bit, readying himself for insults.

To his surprise, the other person grinned. “Ha! Thought so!” They stuck out their hand. “Ritska Aan. Pleasure to meet you.” 626 shook their hand, and if it was possible Ritska seemed to grin even wider. “Been wanting to meet you for a while.”

“Why?”

“Because of what you _are_! You’re a _genetic experiment_! I’ve always loved biology, so the chance to meeting someone as unique in the universe as you are is a privilege!”

Noting that they were speaking out of admiration, 626 forced himself to take a deep breath. “You know when you talk like that it sounds rather objectifying, right?”

Ritska looked embarrassed. “Right, sorry, probably got carried away.” They coughed. “Well, looks like the speech is about to start.”

And so it was – Gantu had stepped out on the podium. He looked out at the assembled cadets, cleared his throat, and began to speak.

“Men, women, and others, I congratulate you for completing your years of training here at the Turian Naval Academy. What you have endured is not for the faint of heart, and that you have made it to the end speaks of your commitment and your bravery. You are among the best this galaxy has to offer.

“By this time tomorrow all of you will be _en route_ to your first postings. Some of you may like where you are, some may not. But I implore you to remember: there is nowhere to go but up. And no matter where you are, you are all doing what needs to be done to keep your Federation safe.

“When I look out at you, I see members of old families from here on Turo, cadets whose species barely entered the Federation, beings of flesh and beings of metal. I see the galaxy, but no matter what species you are, what planet you hail from, know that you are all united by your status as soldiers in service to the greater good. So look upon each other, and know that from this day forth you are all one armada, striving across planets and star systems to keep the Federation safe! One sword and one shield, keeping the galaxy safe! So that our loved ones may rest easy at home, knowing that their brave children are the steadfast guards of law and order! So from this day onwards, march forth with pride in yourselves and in your brethren!”

The cadets cheered, and 626 was caught up with them. Gantu then left the stage, and the various boards stepped up. “Thank you for those stirring words, Captain.” It was the Grand Admiral of the navy. “Now, cadets, the moment of your graduation has arrived. When your name is called, you will be called up by one of us corresponding to the branch of the military you will be assigned to; I will call those for the navy, my colleague in the army for those in the ground forces, and so on. We will hand you a data card showing your posting and containing your certificate of graduation. Then, please return to your seats and wait for this ceremony to come to a close. A preemptive thank you for your patience.” He cleared his throat. “Very well, then, time for the first cadet.” His face briefly contorted into a look of discomfort, but he caught himself and squashed it. “Experiment 626!”

The clapping was somewhat less than complete, but 626 didn’t care. As he ascended the stage for his data pad, his eyes were on the Grand Admiral. The Plorgonarian’s face narrowed slightly in dislike at the experiment, but nevertheless he held out the data pad. “I congratulate you on your graduation.” The complement and the accompanying handshake were both rather perfunctory, 626 noted. He gave a brief nod, said “thanks,” and returned to his seat. As Ritska was called up by the military science division, he checked to make sure that the seat’s flusher was both active and discreet. It was going to be a long ceremony, after all.

- _Turian Naval Academy, 12:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Finally the damned ceremony was over. As 626 got up from his seat and tried to remember how to walk, he noticed that some of the admirals were still watching him. He gave a slightly cheeky wave, turned, and left the stadium. He and Obrea had made plans to meet up outside by a massive statue of the Federation’s first Councilman, and sure enough he found the raptrian waiting there with a smile.

Obrea gave 626 a hug. “Good to see you again, 626. Well, congrats on graduating! You’ve finally done it! He ruffled 626’s fur on the top of his head, a gesture that felt surprisingly pleasant. “Well don’t keep me waiting – let’s see where they’re putting you.”

626 switched on the data pad and flicked to his assignment. “It says…Whitewood Station, Gapra system.”

“Gapra? Interesting.”

“Know anything about it?” The name sounded familiar, but from where 626 couldn’t remember.

“It’s a military research station, out about 15 parsecs from the center of the galaxy. I’ve been there a few times on patrols and the like. They do a lot of interesting biological stuff.”

“Biological?” _Am I being sent there for some tests or something?_ 626 wondered.

Seeing the look on 626’s face, Obrea shrugged. “Well, there is SOME bioweapon-type stuff there, but it’s mostly just organic augments to armor or weapons. Nothing on your level. And from what I recall most of it’s meant for peaceful purposes. They mostly just keep the military around for security purposes since it’s a military research facility.”

626 had more questions, but before he could ask them he heard a voice.

“Hey! 626! Congrats, man!” It was Spon, running up to him with a big grin and his parents in tow. “Hoped we’d find you.” He stuck out his upper hands and shook Obrea’s. “Nice to meet you. I’m Spon Jofford. You must be Obrea? 626 mention’s you a lot.”

Obrea smiled. “And 626 does you as well. Especially something about punching someone in the face?”

Spon blushed and turned to 626. “I’m not living that one down, am I?”

“Never.”

“Ah, well, at least it’s not the _worst_ thing I could have done. Always, where are you assigned to, Mr. big shot navy ensign?” Spon made a face. “Planetary Security Forces, can you believe that? Least I’m at that Gapra place.”

626 couldn’t believe it. He and Spon would be staying together! “Same here!”

“Really?” Spon grinned. “Yes!”

626 realized that Spon had yet to introduce him to his parents and pointed that out. The Amuan blushed.

“Right, uh, mom, dad, sorry about that. 626, meet Kimber and Vorah Jofford. Mom and dad, meet Experiment 626.”

626 shook both of their hands. “Delighted.”

“Pleasure’s ours.” Kimber looked at Obrea. “Our Spon’s told us quite a bit about his friend. That’s quite the charming young son you’ve got there, officer.”

626 and Obrea looked at each other and blinked. “Well, no, he’s not my – we’re not actually –” Obrea stuttered.

“At any rate,” Kimber continued as if not noticing the awkwardness, “We must be off. It was lovely meeting both of you!” And with that the three of them left, leaving a rather put-out Obrea and 626.

They stared at each other. “You know, I don’t actually mind that idea very much.” 626 said.

Obrea tried to compose himself and failed. “Well, uh, it’s not the worst one ever. But you’d better be off. Don’t want you to miss your transport out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Normally most of the original characters I write go through a couple voices before I settle on one (Obrea's gone back and forth between Liam O'Brien and Andre Sogiluzzo a lot, for example), but Ritska's been solidly Elizabeth Henstridge's voice since the first word or so. Probably because I happened to be re-watching Agents of SHIELD as I was writing this.


	18. Missing Pieces

- _Kweltik System, 1:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Jumba was at his wits’ end. After three years he’d finally managed to retrieve all the necessary genetic information and material to recreate his experiment, and was ready to bring his improved creation to life, but there was still one problem remaining: how to make sure that 626-II wouldn’t just be a carbon copy of 626? He didn’t want _another_ one of his experiments to run off and inform the Federation, of course. So, to solve this, Jumba had spent the last three months poring over 626’s original code to find the error.

It was because of this that he had been sitting in front of the computer for the last six hours. He’d pulled up both 626 and 626-II’s codes to compare, and even after checking and double checking there was nothing that jumped out at him that he could fix. “Blitznak,” he grumbled, “where reason difference?” He needed to find it, and fast. Dr. Hämsterviel was getting impatient, and an impatient Hämsterviel was an annoying one. _Honestly,_ Jumba thought to himself, _sometimes funds and scientific assistance from the little gerbil are not reward enough for putting up with him_.

As if on cue, the door to Jumba’s lab opened and Hämsterviel himself stormed in.

“Jumba!” He shouted. “This delay is infuriating me! You’ve been working on this for three years, you four-eyed, lab coat wearing madman! We need PROGRESS!”

“As I have said,” Jumba replied evenly, “gathering of genetic material for 626-II is complete. All that is left is to fix behavioral problems that plagued my first creation, but that is proving trickier than I would have thought.”

“Why? Just create your creation and condition him from there. Enough electroshocks to the brain and anyone’ll become evil.”

“Enough electroshocks to the brain and 626-II will betray us faster than you can say ‘Turo’, Hämsterviel.” Jumba shook his head. “We need a creation that is both destructive _and_ loyal to us.”

Hämsterviel sighed. “Fine.” He hopped onto Jumba’s desk and looked at the computer as well. “Can you tell me what’s proving oh-so-difficult to solve?”

Jumba pointed at the monitor. “I’m trying to find place in genetic code that controls aggression and emotions, so that I can enhance them.”

Hämsterviel snorted. “Is that all? Here – let me take a look. Show me the part that deals with the limbic system.”

“Limbic system?”

“Of the brain, dumbass. I’ve got a brilliant idea.”

Jumba rolled his eyes and scrolled up.

“Fine. Here you are. Take a look.”

Hämsterviel squinted as he examined the information. “Is there any way to turn this into a 3D image?” He turned his attention to the monitor. “Ah. Here we go.” Now he was looking at an image he could rotate around. “Hmmm…maybe if we find ways to increase the stimulation of the amygdala…”

“What, make him horny? We want something that’ll rip the Federation apart, not hump it to death.”

“I was referring to AGGRESSION.” Hämsterviel looked at Jumba. “Have you even studied the brain at all?”

“Not since we graduated EGU.”

“It shows. Now shut up: I’m trying to do some very important work here.”

Hämsterviel pulled up the sequence for 626 and compared it to 626-II. “Well, I can definitely say that as is we’ll just get another peace-loving fluffball. The two look exactly the same.”

“As I have been saying all this time. Do you have any fixes?”

Hämsterviel thought about it. “What we need to do is find the right way to increase 626-II’s aggression, so the amygdala stimulates more on its own.”

“Could we use DNA specimen from the Mangloid or the Disembowler?”

“Won’t work. Those animal specimens are too simple-minded, and they work off fight-or-flight and need as opposed to desire. We need a real monstrous monster, something that _enjoys_ bloodshed.”

“And where are we supposed to find that? Nature doesn’t work that way, I’m fearing.”

“It is a problem.” The two were silent for a bit. Then, Hämsterviel snapped his fingers. “Aha! I’ve got it! Ooooh, I’m a genius!”

Junba fought to keep from rolling his eyes. “What’s this magical fix of yours, then?”

“Simple: if we can’t find a _natural_ solution, we find an _unnatural_ one.” He minimized the screens showing the genetic codes and went to the _Encyclopedia Galactica_. “Do you know of any research stations researching biological things?”

“I know that Whitewood Station on Gapra III does a lot of experimentation.” A look of comprehension drew across Jumba’s face. “Are you thinking of hijacking someone else’s research, maybe?”

“Precisely. Now, let’s see what our friendly government friends have done on the subject.” He flicked through the encyclopedia page on Gapra, then through the Whitewood station’s public site, and then he found what he was looking for. “Excellent.”

“What?”

Hämsterviel pointed to the map of Gapra III’s sectors. “See that one area near the equator? There’s nothing about it on the website. And it’s right next to the Armada base.”

“For security?”

“For security. Whatever’s there, our Federation friends don’t want anyone knowing about it.”

“I see. Is a bit of a long shot, but it could hold what we need.”

The two scientists smiled at each other. They had a plan.

“On to Gapra, then.” Jumba switched the computer off. “We leave in morning. Will you be staying the night?”

“Certainly.” Hämsterviel rubbed his hands together. “Oh, this is going to be so exciting!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same thing as last week; two new chapters up. Next week it's back to the regular schedule.  
> Apologies for the technobabble going on here, and if any of y'all happen to know more neuroscience please let me know if I can correct any of Hämsterviel's stuff here.


	19. Gapra

- _Whitewood Base, 15:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

626 stepped out into the hallway and stretched. Base orientation had taken the entire morning and much of the afternoon, and he wanted to explore the planet for himself. Thankfully as a navy-oriented patrolman he’d been issued a thing called a “Milvucycle”, which was basically a flying speeder with some weapons attached. Sure, it wasn’t a police cruiser, but it was still fun to fly. And it was _his_. So, after getting clearance for flight from base command, 626 hopped on the Mlivucycle and jetted out to the planet surface.

“Oh, _wow._ ” What 626 saw took his breath away. The orientation had mostly been in a room overlooking the base staging grounds, with only a hint of the planet’s foliage in the distance, so this was his first time seeing the planet he was going to be stationed on for the foreseeable future. 

And it was beautiful.

Whitewood base was constructed in the middle of what could be best described as a crystalline forest. The light from Gapra’s sun reflected off the silver leaves in a vibrant, rainbow cascade, and here and there stretched along the trees were artificial structures that glowed with a faint, blue light. 626 jetted over to the nearest one and noticed that it looked to be some sort of energy converter. _Are they using the trees to power the base?_ He wondered. 626 continued hovering along, jetting above the winding pathways that traveled outwards from Whitewood to the external research buildings, and eventually came across a waterfall overlooked by a compact, blue building that arced across both sides of the water. _Wonder what this is?_ 626 maneuvered the Milvucycle down to the building’s parking lot and disembarked. As he did a guard addressed him.

“Name?” The guard asked.

“Airman First Class Experiment 626, ma’am.” His new title was a bit of a mouthful, and 626 had spent a fair bit of time the past few days practicing saying it.

“One of the new meat?” The guard stuck out her hand. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Staff Sergeant Adon. Feel free to come inside – we’ve got another new recruit here you might know.”

“What is this place?” 626 asked as they walked in.

“The research station? This is one of the auxiliary buildings for biological augmentation. Mostly we store data related to the experiments done up in the main building and oversee their implementation.”

“What sort of experiments?”

Adon shrugged. “Well, a lot of it’s classified and above your pay-grade – or mine, for that matter – so I can’t disclose it to you. But I can tell you that a lot of what we do is military-related. Hence why there’s such a strong armed presence here.”

626 gave a little _hum_ of acknowledgement. It was interesting, now that he thought about it: everyone, from Gantu to Obrea to Adon, had given the same vague answer. _They hiding something?_ He wondered.

The question of if anything was going on here behind the scenes was driven from his mind when Adon took him into the control room, where immediately 626’s arrival was the cause for an excited squeak. It was Ritska Aan from graduation.

“626!” They grinned and ran up to him. “It’s great to see you again!” Listen – I, uh, wanted to apologize again for the way I treated you during graduation. I shouldn’t have treated you like you’re just a science experiment. Even though your name kinda screws with that analogy, now that I think about it.” Now they were blushing and looked rather sheepish. “I’m just digging myself deeper, aren’t I?”

“You’re fine.” 626 thought it best to be polite. It was obvious that Ritska was trying their hardest.

Adon cleared her throat. “Private Aan, please take 626 down to the waterfront. We have a data dump coming in that I’d like to sift through.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Ritska led 626 down a flight of stairs and outside to a little deck overlooking the waterfall. There was a pair of sedan chairs perched near the edge, so they made for those.

“What was _that_ about?” 626 asked. “You not trained to do that data thing?”

Ritska shook their head. “No, I’m trained, alright. Wonder what that was about?”

“Something ‘above your pay grade’, probably.”

“Hmm?”

“Something Adon said on the way in. It’s probably about something classified.”

Ritska shrugged and looked at the waterfall. Both of them watched it flow for a bit. Then, a little bored, 626 stood up and walked over to a little path off the deck.

“Where are you going?”

“For a walk. Wanna come?”

“No thanks.”

626 walked along in silence for a bit. _What are they doing that’s so classified?_ From the little bits he’d heard from Obrea it seemed like Gapra’s biological research was mostly related to relatively peaceful ends, so what was it that they didn’t want them to know about? Or was this just normal ‘chain-of-command’ related privacy where the lowest ranks didn’t get to know anything? _Considering that I’m a walking bioweapon who’s probably WAY beyond their research you’d think they wouldn’t have a problem telling me._

626 sighed, shook his head, and continued on. Partway down the path he stopped in front of a bright-red flower with a sign in front of it that said DANGER: DO NOT TOUCH along with a drawing of some poor sap covered in flames.

626 couldn’t help himself: he poked it. Immediately the plant curled in on itself, made a hissing noise and then twisted so that the stigma was jutting out at him. Then, half a second later, it belched fire all over him.

“Gaaaah!” 626 leapt away from it and frantically put out the flames on his uniform. It was singed, but otherwise okay. _Well, this might be awkward to explain. Least I’m fireproof._ His encounter with the fire posed an interesting question, though: why was there an organic flamethrower out in the open like this?

626 looked ahead and noticed that there were more of them scattered around the path. Each one had a “DO NOT TOUCH” sign, almost like they were begging for someone to poke them. _Huh. What the hell’s going on?_ 626 sat down on the path and thought about it. Why would a path from the research station have a section covered in death traps? _Are they trying to keep someone out?_ Now that he thought about it, it DID seem like a possibility – by plastering the path with deadly plants they could theoretically avoid the attention that an actual fence would bring, and people would be discouraged from going off the beaten path by the risk of running into some other plant of death.

626 bent down and looked at the plants a little closer. There wasn’t anything odd about them at first look, although he had to admit that he wasn’t exactly a botanist. _Are these even natural plants?_

626 decided to head back to Ritska.

They were still sitting in the chair when he got back. When they saw 626, they tilted their head and stared at the burn marks. “Dare I ask?”

626 cut right to the chase. “How good are you with plants?”

“Pretty good with them, why? Least, I know a lot.”

“Are there any plants that double as flamethrowers?”

“Flamethrowers?” Ristka frowned. “Not that I know of? Although, it IS a big universe. Maybe they’re imported or something?”

“Maybe.” 626 shrugged. “Well, I should probably go.”

“See ya, 626.”

“See you.”

When 626 went back inside and returned to the control room, he noticed that Adon seemed a lot tenser than earlier. In fact, now that he thought about it everyone did.

“Is everything alright?” He asked.

Adon turned to him, beads of sweat trickling down her face. She was so preoccupied with whatever was bothering her that she didn’t even seem to notice the burn marks.

“We have a breach here. It’s a two-person manta shuttle, fully armed. We’re scrambling, but I don’t think we’ll get ready fast enough to avoid damage. And then there’s who owns it?”

“Who?” Suddenly 626 had a massive sense of dread.

“We traced the ID back to Kweltikwan. It’s…”

“No. It can’t be.”

Wordlessly, Adon nodded.

“Mind if I help out?”

“We need all the help we can get, although you’ll be stuck on that Milvucycle you brought.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 626 turned and raced to his vehicle. _Jumba, You’re NOT taking me_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this place is completely based off the Gapra Whitewood area from Final Fantasy XIII. Feel free to play the music from that area to enhance the effect if you so wish as you read the description I so lovingly crafted. I had fun writing it.


	20. Raid

- _Whitewood Base Biological Research Processing Center, 17:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Just in time, 626 managed to kick his Milvucycle into motion as Jumba’s shuttle burst through the forest canopy and opened fire on the building. The shuttle managed to dive low enough for a quick strafing run, flew out of range of the return volley and whirled around for a second buzz. As it did so 626 rose up to meet it head-on. Before Jumba could open fire 626 did so himself, sending bolt after bolt of plasma at his creator, but the shuttle was shield-protected and everything just bounced off.

“Blitznak!” 626 cursed. He was a sitting avain, but thankfully the unexpected resistance had forced Jumba to change course and break off the attack. 626 pursued him, ducking and weaving below the base’s own cannons, and suddenly they were both away from the base and careening through the forest.

Trying to shake his pursuer, Jumba sped up. “Oh no you don’t”. 626 muttered. There was no way he could keep up with the shuttle in a straight chase, that much was true, but thankfully the forest would hamper Jumba’s ability to go full-throttle and restrict his maneuverability enough that the more agile Milvucycle could keep up.

626 decided that the best way to wield this advantage would be to start off by herding Jumba in the ideal direction, and to that end he began firing a series of charged shots at his quarry. Sure enough Jumba angled slightly to evade them, and with enough persistence 626 was able to get him to start veering heavily to starboard. 626 responded by banking hard right through the trees, checking every so often to make sure that Jumba didn’t need any more forced course-correction. Within a few minutes of this game 626 erupted from the trees right above the shuttle, and with a quick blast downwards struck at its cockpit.

With a _crunch_ the shield broke, and as 626 fought to keep his Milvucycle steady from the resulting shockwave he glared down at his creator, seeing him for the first time since their trial years ago. Jumba tried to activate his top cannon to return fire, but 626 was ready for that and blasted it out of commission. Then, almost unthinkingly, he turned on his comm and switched it to an open channel.

The Kweltikwan realized what he was doing immediately. “626”, the reply crackled, “It has been long time. I can see that you’ve really become a Federation dog, haven’t you?”

“Save it, Jumba.” 626 growled. “You’re _not_ taking me.”

To 626’s surprise, Jumba laughed. “You think I’m here for _you?_ Don’t be absurd. I gave you up as failure long ago, 626. I’m here to so my next experiment is a little more successful.”

626 was a bit stung by that, he had to admit. _A failure? Me?_ But at the same time, he was confused. “Then why are you here?”

“Don’t play fool, 626. We both know you’re too smart for that. I’m here for what they’re working on at that base.”

626 frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You really don’t know?” Jumba sounded surprised. “Why don’t you go ask Federation friends what they’re _really_ working on here? Why they need such…firey…security. Unless, of course, you’re afraid to find out that your ‘beacon of civilization’ has a dark side.”

_What?_ 626 wanted to dismiss Jumba’s comments as just the ravings of a madman, but it honestly made sense: the vague answers, the significant military presence, the flamethrower-plants…

Jumba realized that his failed experiment was too busy in thought to focus, so he seized his chance. As fast as he could and with as much force as he could muster he spun the steering wheel, flipping his craft a hundred and eighty degrees before 626 could react. The shuttle’s wing collided with the Milvucycle and sent it spinning, while Jumba righted the shuttle and deployed the hull’s cannon. One quick shot and the Milvucycle was disabled, spared destruction only due to a last-minute spin from its pilot before went spiraling to the forest floor.

626 just barely managed to pull himself into a controlled descent in order to avoid splattering all over the ground, and as such he was able to escape the crash mostly intact. He got to his feet, looked back at his wrecked vehicle, and groaned. _And it was brand new, too. THIS won’t go down very well back at base_. He looked up at the sky, expecting Jumba to follow up with another attack, but to his surprise it appeared that the Kweltikwan no longer had any interest in him and was going back the way they had come.

626 was about to start running after him when he noticed more of the flowers, this time lined up in a pair of rows behind him as far as he could see. There was no mistaking it: this was a wall.

_“Why don’t you ask Federation friends what they’re really working on here?”_ It was a breach of protocol, 626 knew. But, still, he _had_ to know what Jumba was talking about. Images started flashing through his mind: diseases that would level cities in a single day. Gruesome cyborgs like the ones in those movies Spon liked.

Creatures like him, waiting to be unleashed.

626 took one last look at the vanishing contrails from Jumba’s shuttle, took a deep breath, and limped further into the forest.

After a few minutes of walking 626 realized that the canopy above him was getting steadily thicker; another ten minutes or so of walking and it would be almost as dark as night. There were also the telltale signs of life in the distance: 626 could hear the _hum_ of electricity and what sounded almost like roaring. _What is this?_ He wondered. 626 needed to find the answer, so he kept walking.

A few minutes later, 626 stopped. He could see that he’d come to the edge of what looked like a massive pen, with an electric gate a few feet to the side. 626 climbed up the side of the metal and gazed inside. There seemed to be some sort of _creatures_ there, but none that 626 had ever seen before, and all carrying some sort of artificial augmentation: one group of leopard-like creatures towards one side all had what looked like metal spikes from all around their skulls, while off to the side there were a group of slug-flower-things emitting what 626 assumed was some type of gas. And in the middle, cordoned off from all the other creatures by a bunch of electrified bars, was a massive, bipedal monstrosity 626 knew was completely unnatural.

The sight made him sick to his stomach. “What the actual _hell_?” Dizzy, 626 climbed back down. _Think, 626. Think._ He had to give himself directions, keep himself focused, otherwise he’d just lose it. _A computer. There’s a computer over there. Maybe it has more information_. 626 stumbled over, praying that he could access it, but thankfully in all the commotion whoever had been using it last hadn’t logged out. As 626 looked at it, he saw that the monitor displayed a single headline at the top:

**BIOWEAPON RESEARCH SITE 4, AREA 2**

_Bioweapons?_ 626 thought. _What?_ Transfixed, he clicked on the heading for ‘research subjects’.

**SELECT PROJECT**

**PROJECT A: METAGATA**

**PROJECT B: LAKIOM**

**PROJECT C: AETERNA IV**

626 clicked on the third and was greeted with schematics of the monster in the middle. There was a short description of the project:

**THE AETERNAE IV IS THE FOURTH ITERATION OF THE ARMADA’S AETERNA PROGRAM, WHICH AIMS TO PROVIDE THE FEDERATION WITH A BERSERKER THAT IS ALMOST UNSTOPPABLE ON THE BATTLEFIELD.**

**THE FOURTH ITERATION REPRESENTS A SIGNIFICANT BREAKTHROUGH IN THAT IT HAS FULLY IMPLEMENTED THE SO-CALLED ‘BLOODWRATH PARADIGM’. AS SUCH, AETERNAE WILL NOW HAVE THE ABILITY TO, WHEN PRESSURED, HEAL THEMSELVES AND INCREASE THEIR STRENGTH AT THE COST OF ANY LEVEL OF CONTROL. DR. HABBITRALE HAS FORMALLY RE-COMMITED ALL AVAILABLE RESOURCES TO FIXING THIS ISSUE.**

So there it was: apparently one of the missions of Whitewood Base was to breed creatures for war. It was sickening, and 626 wanted to vomit. He couldn’t stand the sight of either the computer or the pen any longer, so he began stumbling back the way he came.

A quarter mile out from the research site, a patrol found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm totally stealing monsters from FFXIII at this point, and honestly I feel kinda bad at that. It feels kinda lazy...


	21. Secrets

- _Whitewood Base Biological Research Processing Center, 17:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

When the patrol marched 626 back to the Research Processing Center he immediately knew something was wrong. In addition to Adon and the rest there was also a stern-looking man standing in the center. Based off the number of medals on his shirt 626 imagined that he was in charge.

The man stared down at the experiment with his eye, mouth curled into a frown. “Experiment 626. I am director Themis. I understand that in your pursuit of Dr. Jookiba you were shot down and instead of making your way back to base decided to trespass on research grounds. Do I have this correct?”

“Yes, sir.” 626 stood at attention, dreading how this would go.

“Allow me to explain to you the gravity of the situation. What you stumbled upon is highly confidential, and one careless word could blow up on the galactic stage into a massive scandal. All the while our enemies would be able to move with a greater freedom than before.” He shook his head. “All this time I’ve thought Admiral Berie a fool for ranting about the dangers of the ‘illegal abomination.’ Perhaps I was wrong.”

Before he could stop himself 626 spoke. “Hypocrite.”

“Excuse me?”

626 knew he should apologize, that insulting a figure like Themis was bound to have _some_ consequence, but he was still too sickened by what he’d seen. “ _I’m_ the dangerous one? What about those…things back there? Last time I checked I wasn’t the thing with a ‘Bloodwrath protocol’ or whatever programmed in.”

Themis might as well have been made of stone. “Hold your tongue, Airman, before it gets you in even worse trouble.”

“Um, Director?” Adon interjected. “What’s the ‘Bloodwrath protocol’ he’s talking about?”

“Nothing that concerns you, Staff Sergeant.”

“Actually,” now Ritska was speaking, hunched over a computer, “I think it _does_. Look there – in the files that Gerbil breached. The phrase ‘Bloodwrath Paradigm” shows up at least three or four times.” They turned to the director. “Sir, we put our lives on the line for it, _especially_ 626\. I think we have the right to know more.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then everyone here knows that you’re keeping secrets.” Adon matched his glare. “And how can we trust you after that?”

Themis glared back, grinding his teeth as he did so, then looked around the room. Finally, after shooting another glare at 626, he sighed. “Very well. But let it be known that what I am about to say will go completely _off the record_. Anyone who repeats so much of a word of this will be court-martialed immediately.” He looked around the room again. “Anyone who cannot hold to that, leave.”

The majority of the assembled scrambled for the doors, leaving 626, Ritska, Adon, and a few others.

“First of all, I would like to make clear that the projects 626 discovered were in the works long before Dr. Jookiba created him. That being said, I will acknowledge that they only received significant funding three years ago, likely due to increased concerns that the Federation was falling behind our enemies in the construction of biological weapons. I was first appraised of the projects two and a half years ago.

“The centerpiece of the work is the ‘Aeterna’, which is meant to be an invincible weapon of war capable of leveling enemy bases single-handedly. The ‘Bloodwrath Paradigm’ is our attempt to take the already-augmented aggressive instincts of the Aeterna and increase them as far as we can. In the process, we also discovered that the tests to enact this had also given the Aeterna enhanced healing abilities. As of yet the Paradigm is incomplete and the Aeterna is still a secret, as we have found that the beast is completely uncontrollable. As you all can likely conceive, all of this work is highly illegal – unlike Experiment 626, we have no waiver on the prohibition against genetic experimentation.”

“It’s not hard to understand why, considering what you’re doing.” Ritska looked sickened. “I mean, experimenting on a living creature like this?”

“We do what must be done, Private, lest we fall behind. Sure, 626 may be on our side, but what is tomorrow there’s another 626 on the other side? Or two? Or something worse?”

“Ethical arguments aside, there’s still something I don’t understand: why would Dr. Jookiba and that Gerbil want to steal our data?” Adon wondered. “If they made 626 once they could make him again.”

626 had been thinking about that, and he knew. “So they can make the monster Jumba wanted.”

Everyone turned to look at him.

“Jumba called me a ‘failed’ experiment back there.” Even as he said it the phrase hurt a little. “When he made me, he wanted a monster that would wreak havoc on the galaxy, but I didn’t want that, so I fled. If he were to proceed from the same blueprints he used to make me in the first place he’d just wind up back where he started: all that money down the drain for an experiment too horrified to fight. But with the Bloodwrath Paradigm…” He trailed off.

“He’d have his monster.” Adon finished. “And now he’s just escaped offworld with that associate of his.” Angry, she whirled on Themis. “Peleus, for the love of God! I’m in charge of all the data that goes through this place, so why the _hell_ wasn’t I told about this?”

“Because it wasn’t your purview.”

“And what does that have to do with anything? If I’d known about your little Godzilla project I could have better prepared its defenses, but now? Now we’ve got a madman loose in the galaxy and the guarantee of a monster ripping its way across the Federation, all because of your kriffing ‘purview’!”

“Staff Sergeant Adon, _mind your tongue._ I’m still your superior. Now come – we have to report to Captain Gantu about this. The rest of you, stay put until you’ve received further instructions.” Themis stalked off as Adon followed, her digits working feverishly around an imaginary neck.

- _Captain Gantu’s Office, 19:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Gantu read the finished reading the message out to Obrea and Kuhio before shaking his head. “By God. To think that this was going on, and none of us knew…”

“I knew”. Kuhio said quietly. The other two stared at him. “At least, I had an idea of what was happening. I knew there was _something_ going on there, that they were developing _some_ sort of bioweapon but nothing like this.”

“How could you possibly know about this?” Gantu asked.

“One of my cadets from last year spoke about it with me. Afterwards he was promptly shunted off to a dead-end post in the middle of nowhere.” Kuhio shook his head. “I think he was at any rate. Anyways, that was why I wanted 626 to be stationed at Gapra. I knew that if anyone would be able to get information about the elusive bioweapon, he would. After all, he’s one of the brightest from his class, and I figured that he’d be unable to sit back and let the prospect of another him go uninvestigated.”

“So you were using him?” Obrea’s voice was calm, but his entire body was shaking.

“More like putting him where he needs to be to blow the secret up.”

“And what about _him_? What if _he_ gets burned in the process?”

“Then we get him out of there. Between the three of us I’m sure we have enough clout to –”

Obrea stood up. “Damn it, Li! He’s not a game piece for you to use! He’s a living, breathing, person! You can’t just _manipulate_ him like this!”

“Then what? You heard Gantu – he had no idea about this! Are you really comfortable with some rogue black site doing God-knows-what in the middle of nowhere? At least now we can take action!”

“And are _you_ really comfortable with sacrificing a good man just for your chess game? Li, I’ve known you for years. This isn’t like you. This is cruel, and you know it!”

“It’s necessary, Ellar. No matter how much we hate it it needs to be done.”

“Needs to be done my ass!”

“ENOUGH!” Gantu slammed his desk, breaking it in half. “We can’t argue amongst ourselves, and both your arguments have merits. Obrea, Kuhio’s right that things like this need extreme measures. That being said, Obrea, you’re also right that we shouldn’t go about using our soldiers as pawns.” The captain closed his eyes for a moment. “Colonel Obrea, I want you to go to Gapra immediately with the Holtz Brigade.”

“Sir?”

“It’s time to remind them who’s really in control.” Then he turned to Kuhio. “Commandant, I want you to come with me. The Grand Councilwoman needs to see this.”

“Yes sir.”

Obrea left to gather his men, and as he did Gantu looked back down at the report. It was unthinkable that something this big could go on without him knowing about it. _What’s going on here_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, pretty sure that this thing's gonna wind up being at LEAST 5 chapters longer than intended. Is that a good thing showing that my world's grown beyond what I originally intended or a bad thing showing that I'm terrible at pre-planning this stuff? I'm not entirely sure.


	22. Fallout

- _Office of the Grand Councilwoman, 19:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

The Grand Councilwoman was just about to close up her office for the day when her secretary phoned in.

“Ma’am? Captain Gantu’s here to speak with you. He says it’s urgent.”

The Councilwoman frowned. _Really? Right as I’m about to leave?_ Still, she had her responsibilities, so she found herself saying “send him in.”

Gantu entered the room with the grimmest expression she’d ever seen on his face, and he wasn’t alone either: the commandant of the Turian Naval Academy was with him. _What’s the meaning of this?_ She wondered.

“Grand Councilwoman. We have something we need to discuss with you. Something we both think you need to be aware of.”

She raised her brow. “Oh?”

Gantu looked over at Kuhio, who began speaking. “Milady, some time ago I had a former cadet of mine who contacted me in regard to something going on at Whitewood base on Gapra III. After he told me about it he was discreetly transferred to another position, far from Whitewood, and for no discernable reason. As such, I got to thinking that something might be amiss there and based off my hunch I recommended that Experiment 626 be posted there in the hopes that he would uncover whatever it was that led to the transfer.”

Gantu slid his data pad across the Councilwoman’s desk. “What 626 discovered is all contained here, ma’am. From what we can tell it appears that there is an illicit bioweapons program at Whitewood base operating under the supervision of Director Peleus Themis.”

She glanced over the report. “I’m guessing that the Aeterna program is what is particularly concerning to you?”

“Yes, ma’am. We need to find out who ordered it as soon as possible so we can know their goals.”

She sighed. _This wasn’t going to be pleasant,_ she thought. “Well, in that case, then I can bring your search to an end.”

“You know who’s responsible?” Kuhio asked.

The Councilwoman took a deep breath. “ _I_ am. I signed off on this program three years ago. Two weeks after Experiment 626’s entry into the academy, to be precise.”

Both the men’s jaws dropped. “I’m sorry, what?” Kuhio stammered out.

“I’m the Grand Councilwoman of the United Galactic Federation – do you honestly think that something of this nature could really proceed this far without me being aware of it?”

“But why?”

“Why? Because two weeks prior I’d been called into court to try a man for bioterrorism and found out that a rogue scientist had managed to create a sentient bioweapon all on his own. And don’t get me wrong – this has nothing to do with 626 as a person. He deserves everything he’s gotten, but still, I had to face facts: if a single scientist could create something of his magnitude without any outside help, what could someone with greater resources create? When I saw 626 I saw that the Federation’s falling behind in a race we cannot afford to lose.” She slammed her fist down on her desk. “And I will _not_ let that happen.”

“But Ma’am,” Gantu protested, “this is just cruel. To experiment on living creatures like this, it’s –”

“I know, Gantu. I don’t like it either. But it needs to be done. If genetic experimentation is going to be a part of our galaxy it is a part of it that we need to stay ahead on.” She stood up. “And Captain, I will hear no more of this from you, nor will I have you telling anyone else. Dismissed.”

Gantu opened his mouth to protest, but saw the look in her eyes and thought better of it. With a curt nod he turned and exited the room, leaving the Councilwoman alone with Kuhio.

“And as for you, Commandant, I hope that you will remember in the future that soldiers are not to be used to you can play detective.”

“Yes, milady”. Kuhio hung his head.

“Good. Of course, you will not be getting away with just that – your actions could have cost an innocent soldier his career or gotten him imprisoned through little fault of his own. You’re lucky I don’t discharge you entirely, but instead I will content myself with demoting you to Major. But let me make it clear that if you take part in _any_ sort of behavior like this again, I _will_ see you court-martialed.”

“I understand, milady.”

“Dismissed.”

The Councilwoman reclined in her chair as he left. She’d hoped that the project would remain private – the backlash would be _immense_ , she knew.

- _Whitewood Base Biological Research Processing Center, 8:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

“Oh, no, no, no, no.” Adon sat transfixed at her desk, watching the news and not believing what she was seeing.

“ _Last night our reporters received this exclusive clip from deep within a secret Government laboratory._ ”

The clip was taken from some sort of personal camera. The quality was poor and the video was quite shakey, but what it showed was unmistakable: their discussion from a few days prior.

_“The ‘Bloodwrath Paradigm’ is our attempt to take the already-augmented aggressive instincts of the Aeterna and increase them as far as we can…_ a _s you all can likely conceive, all of this work is highly illegal..._ ”

“What are you watching?” It was 626, who had been stuck at the base for the past couple days while Themis received word on how to handle the controversy.

Apparently, that was about to become a bit more complicated.

Adon showed him newscast, face white as a sheet.

“Well, now it appears that the entire galaxy knows about the situation.” Adon grit her teeth. “Damn it Peleus, now the whole galaxy knows about your little science experiment.”

“Is it really that bad this got out?” 626 asked.

“Oh, there’s going to be hell to pay, that’s for sure. Remember the controversy when you were created? Take that and double it, at least.” She scoffed. “The Conservatives’ll be up in arms over this, and you can bet the pacifists won’t be far behind.” She groaned. “We’re all going to have to go up in front of the Council Committee on Armed Services, aren’t we?”

Meanwhile the newscast continued to drone on, having moved away from the footage and now showing an ‘expert’ who droned on about accountability and the need to reign in the military. Adon thumped the screen, irritated.

“Want me to wake Director Themis?”

“Sure, whatever. And wake up private Ritska while you’re at it. I want someone else in the room who actually knows how to use their brain.”

***

Predictably, within minutes of Themis entering the room he and Adon started shouting at the top of their lungs. 626 and Ritska tried to tune them out and talk.

“So, what do you think this means?”

626 shrugged. “No idea. When it was me we just showed that I was a good person and that was it.”

“Well, maybe they’ll like giant monsters or something?” Ritska forced a smile. “You never know.”

626 just rolled his eyes. About the same time, Adon and Themis finished arguing. Adon stormed off while

Themis turned to the other two. “None of us are going to do anything for the moment. Holtz battalion will be touching down in a few days so that Captain Gantu can ‘reassert control’. I imagine that they’ll have some instructions on what they want us to do, so in the mean time we’ll just wait for them to come.” He turned to 626. “Airman 626, head back to the main base and bring a message to Commander Doriot. We’d best coordinate our response.”

- _Messier 87 Black Hole, 8:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Jumba and Dr. Hämsterviel had spent the last couple days in hiding after the raid in order to wait for things to die down. Most of that time had been spent processing the data and synthesizing it with the blueprints for 626-II but every so often Jumba liked to turn on the TV in order to see how their raid was behind handled. This morning things were getting interesting.

“ _Last night our reporters received this exclusive clip from deep within a secret Government laboratory..._ ”

Jumba watched the news play a conversation between the high and mighty federation officials at the base, grinning all the while, and radioed for Hämsterviel.

“What is it that’s so important that you’d disturb my sleeping?” Hämsterviel wandered into the cabin of their ship rubbing his eyes, groggy.

“It appears that Federation has slipped up somewhat, and now entire galaxy knows about the goings-on in Whitewood.”

“And that concerns us how?”

“It concerns us because people will be outraged. They will demand action. And why not help them, I am thinking?”

“Help them?”

“What would you say to going back to Gapra, this time in force? That way we can eliminate chance that the Federation will be able to use their research. And maybe even eliminate 626 while we’re at it.”

Hämsterviel yawned, shrugged again, and turned to leave. “Whatever, you oh-so-fat-genius. Just as long as you have enough support lined up.”

_Oh, I do_. After Hämsterviel left Jumba turned on his communicator and began dialing a number.

A scarred face appeared on the communicator’s screen. “Hell do you want, four-eyes.”

“My name is Dr. Jumba Jookiba. Put me in communication with Alci Spect. I have an opportunity she might be interested in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we hit 500 views the next chapter's going up early!


	23. Recruitment

_-Headquarters of the Jitos criminal syndicate, 12:00 Turo Standard Time-_

  
“Now what in God’s name was so important that you wanted to meet with me right away?” Alci Spec leered at Jumba from across her desk. Years as the head of the Jitos syndicate had left the crime lord quite used to doing things according to her schedule, not anyone else’s, and as such to be called away from her lunch to meet with somebody was not her cup of tea. Even if that person happened to be Dr. Jumba Jookiba. Regardless, she was here, and the Gecarinian had resigned herself to the prospect of a long lecture at the hands of her opposite.Thankfully, Jumba got right to the point for perhaps the only time in his life. “I am here to talk about an attack I am planning, one that I am thinking would be very beneficial for the Jitos syndicate to be involved with.”

“And that would be…”

“Whitewood Base on Gapra III. Before you reject me out of hand, you might like to know that I have easy way in.”

Alci snorted. “I wondered if you were behind that, Jumba. I’m guessing that this has something to do with your old 626 project?”

“More or less. Trip there was so I could make a do-over.” Jumba chuckled. “Funnily enough, it turns out that my original creation is actually stationed there.”  
“So you want me to help you wipe him out.” It wasn’t a question.

“Well, yes, basically.” Jumba waved his hands. “But not just that. Whitewood is one of premier Federation bases for bioweaponry and military technology. Think of what the Jitos could gain from that! Enough stock to make them top dogs in the galaxy, not to mention the chance to give the Federation a bloody nose they won’t soon forget! I assure you, there is more ordinance there than you could dream of.”

“What sort are you talking?” Alci leaned in. Despite herself, she was sort of interested.

“Everything. Portable guns, Milvucycles, augmented armor, living weapons…”

“Living weapons?” Now the crime lord was quite interested.

“Multiple types.” Jumba handed her a data pad containing the information he and Hämsterviel had stolen during the raid. “Everything from plant-flamethrowers to poison-spewing slugs. Interesting, is it not?”

Alci nodded and returned the data pad. “Hmmm…” She clicked her pincers together. “Yet we recently learned that the Federation was transferring several thousand soldiers to the base for extra security.”

“Well, as it so happens, even as we speak my partner is making contact with the Tercan organization.” It had taken Jumba giving him naming rights on 626-II, but he’d managed to persuade Hämsterviel to run a little errand for him.

“The anarchists.” She gave a little nod of approval. “Good group. And with all the controversy that video’s starting to draw up I imagine they’ll be interested.” Se gave Jumba a quick glance. “I’m assuming that’s why you decided that now’s a good time to strike?”

“Correct. While Federation is confused and slightly divided over this we sneak in and attack.”

“Not a bad plan.” Alci smiled. “And you had what, a day to throw this all together? Impressive.”

“I take it you’re on board, then?”

Alci closed her eyes and thought about it. “It is intriguing, I’ll give you that. Although I’m not sure about the risk.” The Gecarinian shrugged. “What you’re planning certainly is possible. But, there’s one thing that you’ll have to prove first. But not to me – to the rest of the Jitos heads.”

Jumba was pretty sure where this was going, but he decided to play along and feign ignorance. “That being…”

“See, the thing is, I’m not so sure about your personal strength. If we’re to fight alongside you, we want to fight alongside someone who can actually pull their weight. To that end, we need something from you.”

“And what’s that?”

Alci grinned at him with a smile that could curdle milk. “A good show.”

***

Half an hour later Jumba found himself in a small arena overlooked by seven chairs, each of them occupied by one of the leaders of the Jitos syndicate. Alci sat in the middle, slightly raised above the others and nursing a cup of brandy. Seeing Jumba notice her she raised her glass.

“Fight well, Dr. Jookiba.”

Jumba had expected it would go down like this and had planned accordingly. The Jitos syndicate had a reputation for valuing strength above all else, and he’d anticipated that if he’d wanted their help that he’d have to fight for it. That part didn’t concern him – back on Kweltikwan he’d been one of the greatest fighters in his city, and over the past three years Jumba had made sure to keep himself from going to seed.

No, his main concern was going to win without killing or seriously injuring his opponents. The latter would diminish the available forces for the attack on Gapra, after all, something he’d rather avoid. As for the former, he was pretty sure that killing a member of the Jitos would, at best, get him assaulted before being violently ejected from the building.

At worse, they’d probably subject him to the old “cement shoes” trick. Obviously, he’d rather avoid that.

With a whoosh the barrier protecting the spectators from the goings-on in the arena flared into being and the gate in front of Jumba opened. It was time to duel. His first opponent sauntered in, a ten-foot tall stack of muscles. Jumba gave him a perfunctory nod and shifted into fighting position. His opponent saluted back, knelt slightly, and charged. Jumba met the attack head on, extending his palms outwards and trapping the head, before giving a quick shove to the side. His opponent grunted, off balance, but managed to plant his feet and evaded plummeting to the floor. He followed up with a quick uppercut that sent Jumba backwards. The Kweltikwan rolled over, pushed himself off the floor, and waited for the next charge. The next time his opponent charged, rather than trying to block him Jumba dropped his fists and waited. Just as Jumba started to recoil from the force of the incoming tackle he hosted them up with an uppercut of his own, one that left his opponent completely off balance, and Jumba followed up with a sweep to the legs. Once his opponent was down Jumba grabbed his nape and gave a quick strike. His opponent was out like a light, which Jumba thought was rather surprising. Huh. Did not expect that to actually work. Jumba grabbed his inert form, grunting with effort, and dragged it over to the gate before throwing his opponent out. Then, moving back to the center, he looked at his audience.

“Good enough for you, Spec?”

“For me, maybe.” Alci looked at the others. “What say all of you?”

“I’m still not sold.” A Plorgonarian to her left shook his head. “What about someone more agile?”

“Fair enough.” Alci returned her gaze to Jumba. “It appears that you’ve another round ahead of you.”

“Fine by me. Bring them on!”

His next opponent was much lither; Jumba was fairly sure that he could knock them out with a single hit. The problem, he imagined, would be getting that opportunity. Sure enough this opponent played it much safer, staying around the edges and only darting in every so often with quick jabs and kicks. Jumba managed to block most of them, and the ones he didn’t stung a bit but were otherwise harmless. Unfortunately, his own attempts to return a punch or two wound up only hitting air, and at one such occasion his opponent managed to get in under his guard and deliver a strike to his back-left eyeball. Jumba grunted, retreated, and clapped a hand over it. It’ll survive, but for now I can’t use it. Great. Now he had a blind spot. His first instinct was to head towards the left wall in the hopes of cutting off his opponent’s ability to come at him from that direction, but he had a sneaking suspicion that that was what they wanted. So, instead, he stayed in the middle and dug himself in.

As expected the next attack came from his impaired side, and although Jumba was expecting it he was still caught off guard by the sheer speed. Before he could properly respond he felt a kick to his jaw, one that nearly dislocated it and forced him to give ground. Jumba resisted the urge to massage it or whirl to try and place his opponent in his sights. Don’t play their game, he reminded himself, play yours. Jumba was fairly sure that he knew what the next target would be: the other side of his face, where his opponent would likely try and repeat their success. So, with that in mind, Jumba waited the three seconds that his opponent seemed to take between attacks before spinning 90 degrees. As it turned out his prediction was correct, and Jumba caught his opponent with a right hook that sent them flying. Before they could recover Jumba ran over and gave them a kick to the shoulder that flipped them on their back and placed his foot on their chest.

“Yield.” Saying the words hurt where he’d been kicked.

“Fine.” His opponent lay back on the floor. “I yield.”

Jumba withdrew his foot, waited to confirm that his opponent had indeed surrendered, and turned to the spectators before giving a little bow.

“Apologies on the messiness of that last one. I had to adapt.”

Alci raised her hand. “You won. That’s all that matters.”

“Well fought, Dr. Jookiba.” The Plorgonarian gave him a little smile. “Even with the injuries you still put on an impressive show. I’m convinced.”

 _That makes two_. Jumba thought. “What about rest of you?"

“Lady Spec,” a weaselly-looking man to Alci’s left began, “Perhaps we should ally with him. The Kweltikwan certainly is powerful.”

“Rang, if I didn’t know that would I have even brought him down here at all?”

“Well, no, but…”

“I appreciate it all the same.” Jumba chimed in. Alci rolled her eyes.

“Slai, Dumond, what about you?” When she saw that both of them were nodding at her, Alci poured herself another glass of brandy and turned to Jumba, raising it. “Very well. The leaders have spoken. Dr. Juumba Jookiba, you have the cooperation of the Jitos syndicate.”

_-Kweltik System, 20:00 Turo Standard Time-_

Jumba found Hämsterviel back at the lab, lounging around with a grin on his face. Jumba tried to ignore the presence of Hämsterviel’s paws on his pristine desk, instead hoping that the other’s ease meant that he had good news, and forced himself to smile.

“Things went well with Tercans, I take it.”

“The best.” Hämsterviel gave Jumba a little wave. “The wannabe-heroes are with us 100 percent. You owe me, by the way. I had to endure hours and hours of “freedom this” and “hypocrisy that”.

“You got off easy.” Jumba rubbed his still-swollen eye. “I had to fight for it if I wanted the Jitos to help us.”

“And you won?”

“Oh, I won. Alci Spec said that she relished the opportunity I am giving her.”

“Good, good.” Hämsterviel rubbed his hands together. “Now, once Leroy is complete, we can strike the Federation with an army of nasty naughtiness!”  
Jumba blinked. “Leroy? Tell me that you are not thinking of naming 626-II that…”

“What, it’s a genius name!”

 _Gods help me_ , Jumba thought. “Fah. Whatever you want. Now, if you excuse me, I am needing ice for my eye.” And with that he left Hämsterviel alone in the lab. Everything was falling into place: they had a target, they had the strength, all they needed was to activate their secret weapon. Which apparently was now named Leroy.

Maybe when they met to plan the big attack he’d ask Alci for some of her brandy.


	24. Tension

- _Whitewood Base, Gapra III 9:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

The _G.A.C. Endeka_ touched down on the landing platform at Whitewood Base right on schedule, followed shortly behind by the _G.A.C. Toxotai_ , along with all the various support craft Captain Gantu had assigned to assist in reining the potential renegades at Whitewood in. It honestly seemed like overkill, Obrea thought, to send a pair of capital ships, but years in the Federation had taught him that Gantu generally had his reasons.

One such reason became readily apparent the second the Raptrian stepped down onto the landing tarmac: everywhere he looked he saw glare after glare coming from the regular inhabitants of the base. Most of this was probably just resentment at having their sovereignty overridden and having to play host to two thousand extra Federation soldiers, but the chance that some of them were in on the “nature shitstorm” as the boys were calling it couldn’t be discounted. And as to what that meant…

Obrea mentally shook his head. _You’re jumping at shadows. Even if they resent us it’s probably just because we’re an outside force coming in, not because of any grand conspiracy_. _There’s no reason to get so paranoid._

Still, it was a welcome sight when one of the Planetary Security Forces members assigned to him turned out to be the Amuan 626 had befriended back at the academy. By the looks of it the kid was relieved to find out that he was to be guarding a semi-familiar face, because abandoning protocol he immediately ran up and gave a happy wave.

“Lieutenant Commander Obrea! It’s good to see you again.”

Obrea had to smile. “It’s Colonel, now. You’re Spon Jofford, right? We met during the graduation ceremony.”

“Yes, sir!” Spon turned. “Now, if you’re not busy, we have instructions to take you to base command right away.” It suddenly seemed to dawn on him that he’d managed to completely outrun the rest of his guard contingent in his rush over, and he immediately blushed. “I’ll, uh, let Sergeant Borshu take over from here.” He took one look back at the rather irate Sergeant, then looked down at his feet. “Damn it, Spon, you broke protocol again.”

Obrea pretended not to hear that and instead turned to the man that was _supposed_ to be head of the greeting party. “Sergeant Borshu? I’m Colonel Obrea. I apologize for the circumstances of our arrival here.”

Borshu inclined his head, smiling. “Think nothing of it, Colonel. Hopefully soon we can get this out of the way and resume our normal routines.” Borshu turned to the rest of the guards. “Alright, move out.”

Obrea talked with the Sergeant as they walked. “How far is the research site from here? I have orders to check it out as soon as possible.”

“Just a few minutes by transport. I’ll have them prepare you one to leave soon. Is an hour too long?”

Obrea shook his head. “Thanks for the offer, but we brought speeders of our own that we’d like to use.”

Borshu gave him an odd look. “Are you worried about sabotage?”

“Well, to be blunt, yes. There was some worry up at HQ that someone connected to the projects might try and pull something.”

_That_ stopped the Sergeant up short. Coming to a stop in the middle of the hallway he whipped around and faced Obrea. “Are you implying that some of us are disloyal?”

“How else would you explain that…thing they’re cooking up out there?”

Borshu's jaw was tight. “The Aeterna project is an officially-sanctioned operation, I’ll have you know. Councilwoman Zeller _herself_ ordered funding for it three years ago. Everything we’re doing is done with formal sanction, secrecy or no, and you can be sure of that.”

“What?” This was news to Obrea. “I wasn’t informed of that.”

Borshu started walking again. “Obviously. Now, if you don’t have any more spurious judgements to cast, follow me.” His voice was rather clipped.

They continued walking in silence for a few more minutes, at which point they reached the central command. The base’s Commander was there, along with the director of the bioweapon’s project, a Staff-Sergeant that Obrea assumed worked at the base, a lowly private, and a very, _very_ familiar Airman. By the look on his face it seemed that 626 was even more surprised to see Obrea than Spon had been, but at the same time he looked kind of relieved.

The Commander stood up when Obrea entered and gave introductions for all those present before introducing himself as Commander Traid. The two shook hands and immediately got down to business.

“By now, I’m sure that you’re aware that everything we’re doing here is above-board.” Traid turned to the computer monitor and pulled up a document purporting to give Whitewood base full clearance to pursue their bioweapons project. “Feel free to inspect the information here if you have doubts about its authenticity.”

Obrea shook his head. “I’m going to trust you on this one. If I need more proof I can always inspect it later or ask Gantu.”

“You’re in contact with him?”

“He’s expecting daily reports on the situation here.” _So don’t get any ideas about ‘disappearing’ me_. But what I want to know is, _why?_ What’s going on here is…”

“Absolutely no different than him.” Taird gestured over to 626, who immediately looked indignant.

So did the Staff Sergeant, who promptly stood up. “I’d beg to differ on that, Commander. That _thing_ you’re calling the Aeterna is nothing more than a walking death machine. How exactly is Airman 626 similar to that?”

“The only difference, Adon, is that Airman 626 happens to have developed sentience and a desire to be a productive member of society. And remember your place, _Staff Sergeant_.” Taird turned back to Obrea. “Forgive me for her outburst, colonel. But please, also understand that I will not lectured to on the morality of my projects. We’re on the same side, and what I do I do for the greater good of the Federation.”

Obrea sighed. Trying to press the issue with this one wasn’t going to accomplish anything. Instead, he decided to discuss logistics. “Very well. Now, as you know, we’re supposed to be here for a period of two months. However, considering the new facts that have come to light since Gantu’s original assignment, I think instead that we ought to be there for half that. Is this agreeable?” Taird nodded. “Good. Our soldiers will be billeting on _G.A.C._ s _Endeka_ and _Toxotai_ , but I would like for them to have the ability to mingle in with the personnel here regardless. All the better to lessen the feeling of an occupation, after all.”

“Agreed. However, I did prepare some quarters for you here. Or do you insist on staying aboard your own ship as well?”

Obrea chuckled. “After the guards went to all the trouble of moving my stuff there? That would just be rude. I’ll be staying here.”

They talked for several minutes, after which Taird and Borshu excused themselves. It was getting late, so 626 and the private left as well, leaving Obrea alone with Adon.

The two looked at each other. “Is Commander Taird always such an ass?” Obrea had to ask.

“Only when he’s annoyed, which happens a _lot_.” Adon rolled her eyes. “I’m in charge of security at the information center where this whole mess came from, by the way. It’s far enough away from here that it’s safely out of Taird’s vision, which is why I took the job there in the first place.”

“I can see why.” Taird vaguely reminded him of Gantu, but worse.

“Well, we had best get you out to the information center so you can see what they’re working on.” She gestured towards the hallway. “Follow me, if you please.”

***

_By the gods._ It was a hell of a sight. Obrea’d read the reports of the Aeterna but seeing it in the flesh was something different. Stalking around its pen with what could only be described as a giant buzz-saw was bad enough, but when feeding time rolled around and the thing butchered a prey item twice its size it was like something out of a nightmare. “And they want to use this on the battlefield?” Obrea turned to Adon.

Her face was impassive. “Apparently so.” 

The Aeterna finished eating and roared. “Councilwoman Zeller, what on _Turo_ were you thinking?” Obrea muttered.

- _In orbit around Gapra I_ , _20:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

The flotilla had arrived right on schedule. Standing on the bridge of his ship, Jumba observed both the blue cruisers and fighters of the Jitos Syndicate and the white fighters of the Tercans. He smiled. _Yes. Everything is proceeding according to plan_.

There was one more ship out there, right in the center: Dr. Hämsterviel’s personal vessel _The Evilest Rodent_. Like everything Hämsterviel touched it had a stupid name, but the ship itself was impressive – liberated Federation stock meant for Captain Gantu, if Jumba remembered correctly – and would serve them well in the coming battle. Particularly in light of what it was carrying.

_Leroy, is almost your time to shine._ Jumba allowed himself an evil laugh. _Federation will not know what is hitting them_. Hopefully, by this time tomorrow Whitewood base would be in ruins and their “allies” that much more capable of wreaking havoc on the galaxy.

As if summoned by his thoughts, Jumba’s comm crackled to life as one of the directors of the Tercans called him. “What is it?” Jumba asked.

The voice on the other end seemed angry, strangely. “Is it true, Jumba, that Dr. Hämsterviel is carrying some sort of…abomination aboard his ship?”

“If by abomination you mean another experiment, then yes.”

Now the voice was _definitely_ angry. “Jumba, abominations like that are what we’re here to stop!”

Jumba rolled his eyes even though the director couldn’t see it. “Calm down. Is just one. You have my word that we would never, _ever_ , make another one.”

“Well, if you insist…” Jumba thought he was about to calm down but suddenly the voice flared up again. “And what’s this about Dr. Hämsterviel going to a planet and kidnapping children?”

Junba grunted. “I’m not a part of that. If you have problem with Hämsterviel tell him yourself. And if it really is bugging you, feel free to try and shoot him once battle is over. Just make sure to leave the experiment alive.” Truth be told, Hämsterviel’s plans to pillage some tropical island for warm bodies did bother him, but that was a problem for another time.

Without waiting for a response Jumba switched off the comm and returned his attention to the fleet. Tomorrow morning it was showtime. Vaguely, he wondered if 626 and Leroy would meet and what would happen when they did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last really talky chapter for a bit, I promise.  
> As a side note I'm curious to know if anyone can guess where I got the names for the two capital ships - I had a bit of fun indulging my history nerd side choosing 'em.  
> Also, if any of y'all know the proper procedure for when and when not to capitalize military ranks, I'm not sure about how that works.


	25. War

- _Whitewood Base, 6:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

626 was abruptly jarred out of his sleep by the warning klaxon blaring on the wall. Instantly alert he opened his eyes and looked around, realizing that, somehow, absurdly, the red emergency lights were on. Between that and the klaxon, it could only be one thing: invasion.

_Oh, kriffing blitznak._ 626 wondered if his creator had anything to do with this; he probably did. Regardless, 626 had been prepared for this sort of occasion during his years at the academy, and immediately hopped out of his bunk and grabbed his flight suit to begin changing. Just after he finished changing the barrack door burst open and sergeant Borshu entered.

“Everyone get to your stations on the double! It’s those Jitos bastards, and they’ve brought friends!”

“Jitos? _Here?_ ” A private standing near their bed looked like they were about to vomit.

“Ha!” Another private looked far happier. “Some action!” He turned to some of the other soldiers in the room. “C’mon guys, sarge said get a move on!”

Everyone who hadn’t changed did so at once, following Borshu as he shouted orders. 626 hung back a bit and waited for Ritska.

“Who are the Jitos?” He asked them.

“You don’t know about them?” Ritska looked surprised. “They’re one of the strongest criminal organizations in the galaxy. Trafficking sentients, weapons smuggling, military sabotage – you name it, they do it.”

626 sighed. “Great.” He tried to ignore the tightness in his chest. When they came to a fork in the hall, 626 wished Ritska good luck and ran off to the hangar. In there, he was greeted by a familiar face.

“626! Over here!” Melia rushed over to him. “You’re in the same wing as I am. Wheels up in twenty.” The two hurried to their police cruisers while Melia filled 626 in on their orders.

“We’re supposed to stay out of the line of fire, for the most part. Our job’s to run interference and keep buzzing the flight path of our capital ships to keep them safe long enough to strike theirs.”

“They have _capital ships?_ ” 626 couldn’t believe it was possible.

“Unfortunately, yes. By the looks of it the head of the Jitos fleet is about on par with the _Toxotai_.” She was looking at 626 with an expression he’d never seen on her face back at the academy – fear. “626 we might really get shot down out there.”

“We won’t.” He placed his upper hands on her shoulders. “It can’t be any harder than that combat test from the academy.” He hoped that he sounded more confident than he felt.

626 was pleased to find that his cruiser was more souped-up than the ones at the academy, and if anything it resembled the one he’d stolen from Jumba back when he’d escaped the lab more than the cruisers he’d trained on. Sitting in the cockpit, which was strikingly similar to Jumba’s, 626 had a sudden wave of nostalgia for his escape vehicle. _Whatever happened to that?_ He wondered. Then, he shook his head. _Doesn’t matter. I’ve GOT to stay focused._

Before he knew it, the squadron took off. They blasted out of the hanger, shields up and guns drawn. 626 looked over and saw Melia to his left; the two were apparently in charge of the left flank, he noticed. It was honestly reassuring to know that he was paired up with someone he knew.

His comm crackled to life. “Red Leader, Standing by.”

“Red two, standing by.”

“Red three, standing by.”

“Red four, standing by.” 626 had to fight to keep his voice level.

“Red five, standing by.”

“Everyone, our job is to guard the _Endeka_ ’s starboard aft. No heroics on this – if we start dashing off and getting involved in personal dogfights, those pirates will be able to sneak in and get at the thrusters. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Good. Red Two and Red Three, keep an eye out for trouble coming in. Red Four and Red Five, give them support. Let’s show these bastards a thing or two!”

The first sign of trouble was a black cruiser charging up from below. Red Three managed to blast it to pieces before it could get close, but soon after another cruiser charged in from above, forcing Red Leader to roll out of the way before the cruiser managed to clip him. A quick blast by 626 managed to destroy it before it could try another attack.

“Thanks, Red Four. I owe you one.”

From there it was controlled chaos, with the squad being forced into all sorts of crazy rolls, snaps, and banks, but managing to eliminate all comers. When 626 got a spare minute he looked at the dashboard clock and received a surprise: they’d been in the air for less than half an hour. 626 switched on his comm, went private, and paged Melia.

“You doing alright over there?”

“Well enough, so far. But keep your eyes front, 626 – we’re about to get moving?”

Before 626 could ask what she meant the _Endeka_ fired a massive blast dead ahead, tearing through the enemy lines. The way forward was clear! The massive ship advanced, along with the Red squadron and, presumably, any other guards around it.

From there combat intensified. Now they were getting into the middle of the enemy swarm, and as a result where before they had to contend only with some cruisers here they were faced with entire squadrons and the occasional heavy craft. Suddenly, it was all they could do to keep in formation, but somehow, they managed.

That is, until with a _boom_ the entire squadron stationed port aft exploded.

“What in blazes is going on over there?” Red Leader shouted. “Red Five, can you see anything?”

“New ships incoming. They’re different from the Jitos ones.” Melia gasped. “eight interceptors inbound, surrounding what looks like some sort of assault ship!”

“Everyone, break!” Red Leader’s voice was strained. “We can’t take them!”

They all tried, they really did, but the interceptors were too fast. They zipped ahead of the Federation ships, cutting off their escape, and within seconds Reds One and Two were spiraling to the planet surface. Red Leader Swore and turned on the nearest interceptor in an attempt to fight back and managed somehow to make a break for it. 626 and Melia followed suit.

“Did that do it?”

626 looked behind him. “Don’t think so, Red Five.” Six inbound.

“ _What?_ ”

626 grit his teeth. He knew what he had to do. “Red Leader, permission to make a stand here while you two head to bow.”

“Are you _insane?_ ” Melia was horrified. “They’ll cut you to shreds!”

“Better me than all three of us! And besides – if anyone has to go, it should be me!”

The comm was silent for a moment. Then, as the interceptors advanced, they flared to life.

“Permission granted, soldier. Godspeed.”

Then Red Leader was off. 626 just barely had time to notice that Melia was staying before the interceptors slammed into them.

There was no time to coordinate, no time to tell her off for staying, no time for anything. There was just time to fight and hope that they both made it.

They both fought as hard as they good, giving it their all, banking, shooting, weaving. 626 managed to blast two of his own in short order, Melia a third, and the two had managed to somehow begin turning the tables when things got even worse: the _Endeka_ ’s thrusters exploded, sending a blast out. Thankfully another one of the interceptors was caught in it while the last two were sent flying, but the explosion of the thrusters set off a chain reaction that led to more blasts, more fire, more waves, and both of their cruisers were sent flying. Finally, after what seemed like ages, 626 managed to regain control of his fighter.

“Red Five, do you copy? Are you there, Red Five? _Melia!_ ”

“I’m alive. Shaken, but alive. How far did the blast fling us?”

626 looked around. “Pretty far. Looks like we’re safe, though, at the moment. We need to –”

His cruiser shuttered and started moving again.

“What the _hell?_ ”

“626, look up.” Melia sounded horrified again.

626 did as she told him, and his heart dropped. It was the Jitos capital ship, so close to them that he could read the name, _World Ravager_ , and it was getting closer.

They were caught in a tractor beam.

“Oh, _fuck_.” 626 realized that, with all certainty, everything was going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit on the shorter side. Sorry about that. Also, maybe it's just me, but there's something inherently amusing about having a Disney character say the word "fuck".


	26. Ground Assault

- _Whitewood Base, 7:15 Turo Standard Time_ -

Spon and the rest of the Planetary Security Forces were the midst of a battle against a group of heavily-armored thugs when the _Endeka_ blew up. Everyone, Federation or Jitos, stopped what they were doing and stared at the blaze. There was a grey ship, Spon noticed, that had managed to dive out and was now breaking from the battle. _What’s THAT all about?_

The explosion was starting to peter out, and before it stopped completely Spon leveled his plasma cannons at the nearest enemy and fired. The blast took them dead-center in chest, and as they crumbled Spon did the same to another soldier. Then, ducking back behind his cover, he pulled out his communicator and tried to call in support.

“Staff Sergeant Adon! Commander Taird, come in! Sergeant Borshu’s down! I repeat, Sergeant Borshu’s KIA! We need immediate backup!”

There was no answer, and the Amuan was starting to think that they were alone, when suddenly the communicator flared to life.

“Private Jofford, is that you?” It was Obrea.

“Lieutenant Com-I mean, Colonel! We need help, now!”

“We’re not much better off, where we are, either. Some damned anarchist cell’s got us pinned down near the hangar.”

“The hangar?” Spon hazarded a look around. “The main one?”

“The very same. Why?”

“It’s not far from where we are.”

“Really? Is there any way you can make it?”

Spon frowned. Was there? He looked back at the base. There wasn’t any door in, and their numbers were too few to try and make a break for it… Then, his gaze fell on the garage door. More specifically, on the maintenance duct. If he remembered right, it would be big enough for the to all fit in, and if they could make it, the fight would also nicely serve to funnel their enemies inwards and hamper their numerical advantage. It was worth a shot. Beat dying out here, anyways.

“Everyone!” He yelled. “I think I have a way out of this! We’re going to break into the hangar and link up with Colonel Obrea!”

“How?” A sacred looking Private asked him.

Not wanting to give up the plan, Spon nodded towards the duct. “Not idea, I know, but it’ll have to do!”

“But how are we going to distract them long enough?”

Spon paused. He hadn’t thought of that.

“I have a few flash grenades.” Someone suggested. “Maybe that could stun them long enough?”

“Maybe.” Spon raised his voice. “Right then. Everyone, when we count to three, close your eyes, and when you hear the boom wait a second, then run!” Everyone nodded, and the Private with the flash grenades pulled them out. The private took a deep breath. “Ready when you are, Amuan.”

“Alright then.” Spon took a deep breath now. “One…two…THREE!”

The light was blinding enough as it was even with their eyes closed, but it was now or never. They ran for the duct, and when he got there Spon blasted it out. Then, funneling everyone inside, he got in himself and close up behind him. “Remember. We’re going to the _main hanger._ I think it’s just a few dozen yards ahead with a left turn somewhere. _Please, please, let us make it there in time_.

The hangar stank of burnt plasma, reminding Obrea why he hadn’t missed that smell. At the moment, things were a stalemate: the anarchists had taken up a position near the entrance and were using their interceptors as cover, while Obrea and his forces hid behind some supply crates. It had been a few minutes since the kid had called in, and while the situation at hand may not have been any direr the Raptrian still had a large sense of dread. What if his directions got the Security Forces killed?

A plasma bolt above his head shook him out of his thoughts; he returned fire, missing but managing to rupture a fuel line on one of the interceptors, which the anarchists responded to by scrambling while one of their number dove inside. A few seconds later the line stopped leaking and the anarchists formed back up. Obrea had to admit it was kind of impressive, and even in the heat of battle he found himself wishing that _they_ were that orderly.

The minutes dragged on, and Obrea was beginning to resign himself to the fact that the Security Forces weren’t coming when he heard a wonderful sound: the scraping against a grate. He turned towards it, saw the faint outline of Federation Armor, and let himself smile for the first time all day. “Don’t shoot!” He yelled to ward off any accidents. “They’re friendlies!”

The grate popped open and out poured a dozen soldiers. Last of all was Spon, whose face was ashen.

“Obrea. This is all that I could gather, I’m afraid.”

“It’ll have to do. Thank you, Jofford.”

“What now?” Obrea realized that the Amuan was terrified. This was a hell of a trial by fire, he realized.

“Now, we sit tight and wait for Adon. She’s bringing one of those…things.” He gave Spon a reassuring smile. “The waiting will be much easier with the extra soldiers.” It was a bit of a lie, truth be told, but it seemed to get him at least a little more relieved.

Obrea started giving orders to the new arrivals. “Security Forces, I want you guarding the right flank. It’s lighter, so you’ll be more out of trouble. This way, we can all endure long enough for Staff Sergeant Adon to come with the Aeterna monster.” Whispers started emanating from the gathered soldiers. “I know, I know. But at the moment, loath as I am to admit it, we need that thing.” He raised his plasma cannon. “Everyone, we WILL survive this!” Obrea turned back to the battle. “FOR THE FEDERATION!”

They held out as long as they could, even managing to take two anarchists down for every one of theirs, but the numbers will still against them. Obrea looked over at Spon and shook his head. “Kid, I’m not going to lie to you. If Adon doesn’t get here soon…”

“I know.” Spon looked like he was going to cry. “I know.”

_Boom_

_Boom_

_BOOM_

The door to the hangar blasted open as with a mighty roar the Aeterna charged into the fray at the head of some three-hundred soldiers. It was Adon! Spon gave a whoop. They were saved!

The Aeterna seemed to ignore the plasma being volleyed at it from a hundred and fifty panicked anarchists, and when the beast grabbed the nearest person it promptly bit their head off before roaring. Then, with a swipe of its front paw, the beast eviscerated two more. All in all it couldn’t have taken more than a few seconds. Then the beast was at it again, grabbing a ship this time, rupturing all the fuel lines at once before moving on. A shot of plasma from Adon’s ranks blew the ship up, creating a crater where there were ten soldiers, and at the same time the Aeterna grabbed a crate and began using it to smash people up.

All that passed through Spon’s mind was _Holy Shit_.

A few minutes later, it was all over and Adon was talking with Obrea and Spon while some of the others escorted the new prisoners to the brig.

“Staff Sergeant, we owe you our lives for that.”

Adon shook her head. “The battle’s not over yet. If you hadn’t noticed, the space battle’s not exactly going our way.”

“Any way we can change that?” Spon asked.

“Not unless we get creative. With the _Endeka_ gone it’s all the _Toxotai_ can do to not follow suit. It’s that damn flagship of theirs, the _World Ravager._ ”

All three of them were silent, thinking. Then, Spon piped up. “Hey, we have that four-seater, right?”

Both Adon and Obrea looked at him. “I’m sorry, _what?_ ” They said in unison.

“Well, it could, uh, probably sneak below the radar, and with it we could land on the ship and try and take it out? Maybe?”

“Three people. Against a capital ship.” Obrea shook his head. “This isn’t a movie, son.”

Adon, for her part, actually started mulling it over. “It might actually work, Colonel.”

“How in _space_ could it work?”

“Didn’t Dr. Jookiba manage to sneak onboard the _Durgon_ a few years ago undetected? If he can sneak on a ship like that as easily as he did maybe we can repeat his accomplishment. Of course, we’ll need someone more technologically inclined than either of us.” She looked at Spon. “How good are you with computers?”

“Passable, I guess.”

She frowned. “Passable won’t cut it, I’m afraid. We need someone else.” Then, she turned to Obrea. “Colonel, you’re going to murder me for this.”


	27. World Ravager

-World Ravager _Hangar, 7:25 Turo Standard Time_ -

The tractor beam deposited the two cruisers in an empty hangar. Not wanting to just wait around for the inevitable arrival of hostiles 626 promptly shut his down and exited, making his way over to Melia’s. She exited as well and looked at him.

“So. Belly of the beast.”

“Yeah.” They both looked around the hangar. It was completely devoid of crafts save theirs, and from the looks of it was completely shielded off both from the access hallways and the air outside. “Looks like we’re stuck in here unless we can get the shield down. Do you see any terminal of any sort?

Melia shook her head. “Not from here. Maybe by the hallway?”

They went over. There was a terminal, but without any way to log in it was useless. 626 sighed. “Great. _That’s_ out. Any ideas?” The only response was a shrug. “Well…” He trailed off when he noticed an air vent. He walked over to it, yanked it out and peered inside. There wasn’t any force field. “Can you fit in here?”

Melia looked in the vent. “Maybe, just about. You?”

“Only one way to find out.” 626 jumped in and found that, surprisingly, maneuvering was actually really easy. “Huh. Evidently Jumba made it so that I’m really flexible.” Three years later and he was still learning stuff.

Melia chuckled. “Your creator thought of everything, didn’t he?” She hopped inside the vent themselves and off they went. The two crawled in silence for a few minutes before she began to talk again.

“So, while we’ve got a spare minute, you mind telling me what the hell you were thinking earlier?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, 626. I’m talking about your ‘go on ahead while I bravely sacrifice myself’ gambit. It was uncalled for, and you know it.”

“Melia, we’re crawling through an air duct in the heart of a ship run by an intergalactic crime lord. Not exactly the best time.”

“Cut the shit. 626, we were in the flight academy together – that wasn’t like you. At all. So what were you thinking?” When she didn’t get an answer she pressed on. “Was it that Aeterna?”

“Drop it.”

“It was, wasn’t it?”

“I said, _drop it_.”

“You see yourself in it, don’t you?”

626 stopped moving. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I think you do. You saw that and saw that it’s a genetic creation. It’s not that hard of a leap to make from there.”

It wasn’t, and it hadn’t. 626 took a deep breath and wished that the vent was big enough that he could turn to her. “Melia, look. All my life I’ve had people telling my that I’m a monster just because I was created to be one. So, when I saw that, I – I realized that that’s how they see me. And it hurt to realize that. It really did.”

“626…” Melia wanted to comfort him, but she wasn’t sure how. Still, she had to try. “I won’t pretend to know what that’s like, because I can’t know that. What I _do_ know, though, is this: in our years at the academy, I never thought you were a monster. And so what if you happen to have been created in the same way as that…thing? That’s just a coincidence. What was it that Spon used to say? That it didn’t matter how or why you came about, just what you do with your life?”

“Something like that.” 626 snorted. “The only thing he ever said that was even remotely profound.” They both had a good chuckle at that. Then, the mood lightened somewhat, they started moving again. Oddly, 626 felt a bit lighter now. _What I do with my life…_ honestly, it kind of reminded him of what he’d told the Council back during his trial.

About ten minutes later, they came to a grate that led out into a storage room. 626 kicked it out and they exited the vent, stretching.

626 flexed his arms. “Man, am I glad to be out of there.”

“That makes two of us. What now?”

“Not sure.”

“Well then…what if we wait here? Maybe we can ambush someone or something? If we do that maybe we can get access to a terminal. Not to mention,” Melia sat down on the floor, “I could use a few minutes’ rest.”

“I don’t have any other ideas.” And so they sat.

- _Whitewood Base_ , _8:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

They found Ritska up outside the control room with a stack of papers in their arms. Adon tapped them on the shoulder, causing them to jump and almost drop everything.

“Staff sergeant! I’m so glad you’re still alive. Is everything alright?”

“Can I peel you away? We need your help with something.”

“Can’t exactly refuse you, now can I? I mean, you are my commanding officer. What is it you need?”

“We need your help breaking into the _World Ravager_.”

Ritska took what seemed like at least a solid minute to respond. “Oooohkay, then. That wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“Sorry about this. I trust you more than anyone else.”

“Even though I’m just a private?”

Adon looked them straight in the eye. “Everyone else on hand is someone I wouldn’t trust to get me a pen.”

“Aren’t you harping this conspiracy thing a bit too thick?” Obrea asked.

“Colonel, I’ve been here for years, I’m in charge of the data center handling the information about them, and I only found out when airman 626 discovered what was going on. So no, I don’t trust people who’d keep me in the dark.” She turned back to Ritska. “Aan, you’re the only one here I can trust.”

Ritska sighed. “Fine, sure. It’s not really my area, but why not.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

The flight up was quiet, if tense, and within short order they reached the _World Ravager_. Thankfully they managed to dock without much issue, but as they did Spon noticed a ship hovering about halfway down. “Hey…is it just me, or is that a really odd-looking ship?”

Ritska looked over. “Well, _that’s_ something you don’t see every day.” The ship was spherical and had a pair of giant test tubes on the side. “That’s the weirdest spacecraft I’ve ever seen.”

Obrea squinted at it. It looked familiar…

“Isn’t that a Federation design?” Adon asked.

“The sphere is, for sure.” Suddenly Obrea realized where he’d seen it. “Wait – I know that ship! It was stolen a few years back by some white rodent. I think it was meant to be in Gantu’s fleet?”

“They managed to steal Federation stock?” Spon whistled. “Damn. But what’s it doing here?”

“No idea.”

Ritska hunched over the monitor and zoomed in on the ship. “It’s named the ‘ _Evilest Rodent.’_ ” They did a double-take. “Good lord, that’s a stupid name.”

“Whatever it is, it looks like it’s connected to the _Ravager_.” Adon gave it one last look before grabbing her plasma gun. “Let’s just hope we don’t run into it.”

Once they disembarked Ritska hopped onto the nearest terminal and managed to hack into it in a few minutes. “All right, then. Now that I’m in, what should I look for?”

The only response was silence. “You all _do_ have a target in mind, right?”

Obrea and Adon looked at each other, and the latter blushed. “We, uh, just thought to do a general ‘sneak in and raise hell’ type of maneuver.”

“With four people. Because _that_ makes sense.” (“That’s what _I_ said.” Spon grumbled)

“It’s a work in progress.”

Ritska fought the urge to scream. “Well, since you’ve brought us to the middle of a heavily-armed battleship with _no plan whatsoever,_ I suggest that we start with a quick scan to see where everyone is on this ship.” They dug around the system a bit, found a life-form scan, and activated it. When it was finished they noticed that there was a small room about fifty yards up with only two life-forms in it. “Huh. Here’s something.”

Obrea looked over. “Is there any way we can access a security camera for that room? Maybe there’s only two because that’s all they need?”

A few more fiddles around the system and Ritska managed to access the footage, which showed a pair of very familiar Federation soldiers.

“Is that 626 and Melia?” Spon asked. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Looks like it.” Adon was just as confused. “What the hell are they doing in a closet?”

“Guess we’ll just have to ask them.”

Ritska logged out of the terminal. “Shall we go?”

All four of them marched down the hallway, checking for enemies and finding none, and before they knew it they found themselves outside the door. “So – next question:” Obrea began. “How do we let them know it’s us so they don’t start shooting?”

Spon had an idea. “Morse. 626 did it back during the first team exercise in training. He’ll recognize it.”

_Tap-taptaptap taptap-tap-tap-tap Tap-taptaptap taptap taptaptap tap-Tap-Tap-tap Tap-Tap-Tap Tap-tap_

The door opened and Spon was face-to-face with his rather confused friend. “What are you all doing here?”

“We could ask you two the same question.”

“We got caught in the blast wave from when the _Endeka_ blew up, and by the time we could do anything this ship snagged us in a tractor beam. What about you?”

“Well, the battle on the surface is starting to go pear-shaped, so _those_ two” – Spon nodded at Obrea and Adon – “thought it would be a good idea to sneak up here with a whopping four people.”

“We were short on options, ok?” Obrea folded his arms. “At least now we have a secret weapon at our disposal. And need I remind you that you were to one that suggested we come up here in the first place?”

“Yeah, well, I kind of figured we’d have _more than six people to work with_.”

“So what’s the plan now?” Melia asked. “I’m guessing leaving is out of the option?”

“Correct.” Adon turned to Ritska, who was hovering over another terminal. “Is there anything nearby that would make a good target, private?”

“Alternate suggestion: we run.” Whatever Ritska was seeing on the terminal, it was not to their liking.

“What? Why?”

“Because something’s coming. Fast. Faster than this thing can keep up, I think – I keep looking in the rooms where the heat signatures show up, but I can’t see anything.”

All of a sudden the six of them heard what sounded like scratching coming from the air vent, like something was crawling through it.

Obrea’s hand dropped to his holster. “Everyone get ready. Whatever this is, it’s nothing good.”

The grate to the air vent flew open, and out of the ceiling dropped a red, furry creature holding four pistols. It took a second to get its bearings, a second that should have been used to plaster it with plasma, but instead everyone just stared.

As they did, 626 spoke for all of them. “Is that… _me?_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the late-ish update.


	28. Experiments

-World Ravager _, 8:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

626 couldn’t believe what he was looking at. The creature may have been red, quite notchy-eared, and sort of dull-looking, but it was unmistakably patterned after him. Had it been blue, 626 would have thought for sure that he was looking in a mirror, they looked so similar.

In terms of personality, on the other hand, they were total opposites. Before anyone could react, the creature launched itself at Ritska, knocking them to the ground and slashing out, claws raking Ritska’s face. Both 626 and Obrea leapt into action, but the creature was too strong. With a quick sweep it managed to stop all Obrea’s momentum and force him to the ground while propelling 626 up to the ceiling. Then it hopped to Obrea’s chest, ripped off his helmet, pointed a gun at his head, and…

…did nothing.

From his height, 626 realized that the creature was frowning slightly. Then, with a tiny shake of the head, it re-focused and put a claw on the trigger. As it did, 626 forced himself down from the ceiling at an angle, bounced off the wall, and used the momentum to tackle the creature to the ground. It threw him off of it, but 626 managed to spring back and give it a headbutt. Then they were grappling, evenly matched.

“Everyone go!” 626 grunted with the effort of keeping the creature contained. “I’ll catch up to you once I’ve stopped this thing!”

“But –”

“Melia, this isn’t like outside, I promise.” Finally, 626 managed to gain the upper hand and placed his opponent in a headlock. “I’m not trying to sacrifice myself. We both know that I’m the only one who can hold this thing for more than a second.”

Everyone nodded and started running. Obrea was the last to leave. “626, be safe.”

626 nodded, unable to tell him that his safety might be completely out of the question, and Obrea was off.

The Raptrain had just barely managed to close the door behind him when the creature managed to break free and flipped 626 over its’ head. 626 got to his feet and retreated across the room.

He dropped into a defensive stance. “Who _are_ you?”

“Chi gata questa, quala chifa.” _You’re going to be destroyed, failure._

626 blinked. Tantalog? He hadn’t heard that in a while. “I see Jumba didn’t bother giving his creation speech this time. What’s your number?”

“Naga. Meega Leroy.” _No. I’m Leroy_.

626 snorted. “Leroy? What kind of name is that?”

“Mocheeka.” _Mine_. Leroy started growling and coiled downwards. “Yuuga meega nala queesta, quala chifa.” _I’ll destroy you, failure._

626 kept his own stance. “Very well, then. Oga Gata.” _Bring it on._

Leroy hit 626 like a ton of bricks, causing him to grunt and nearly fall over. Apparently Jumba had made his second creation just as strong as his first one. Using all four of his arms 626 managed to just barely get a hold on Leroy and throw him against the wall, following up with a punch to the gut that by rights should have sent the other experiment to the floor. Instead, Leroy was simply winded for a second before getting up. He ripped a pipe out of the wall and swung it, and then 626 was the one being blown across the room. He grabbed his own pipe and charged right back in.

A few blows in, and 626 realized his mistake; he’d never been very good at this sort of fighting. Spon was much better at it than he was, having always won during their sparring sessions back in training, and 626 had completely neglected to train since he’d gone full-time flight instruction. If they kept doing this, 626 knew, he was going to lose. So, instead, he jammed the pipe in between the floor panels and used it to vault over Leroy’s head. Then, moving as fast as he could, he jumped up to the ceiling. His opponent crouched below him, ready to spring, but before it 626 hurled the pipe into the nearest light fixture.

With a blinding flash the thing shattered, sending sparks down on both him and Leroy. The latter got the brunt of it, and as painful as the sparks were for 626 for Leroy it was a thousand times worse. The experiment shrieked in pain and began frantically batting at the burn marks. 626 had a sudden stab of guilt: _when that thing screamed, it sounded just like me._ This thing was trying to kill him, and yet he was pitying it. What was the matter with him?

There wasn’t any time to figure it out. 626 took one last look at the still-pained experiment, then dove into the air duct. He sealed it off behind him and pulled out his comm.

“Obrea. Come in. It’s me.”

“626?” Obrea sounded relieved. “Are you ok? Is that thing still alive?”

“Yeah. But I think I badly hurt it. Where are you?”

“The bridge. We managed to secure it.”

626’s jaw dropped. “I’m sorry, did you say _the bridge?_ ”

Obrea sounded quite proud of himself. “I did. It was surprisingly lightly-defended. Do you need directions from where you are?”

“I think I can figure it out.”

Sure enough, within a minute or two 626 was outside the bridge himself. _Didn’t realize how close we were to it_. Not wanting to give them a surprise he popped out of the ventilation outside the doors, and after he took a moment to notice that there were a couple of escape pods handily there he knocked on the door.

It had apparently been a bit of a firefight, and there were a good ten corpses laying around the room. All five of his friends were still alive, thankfully, although by the look of it Spon had taken a graze to the shoulder.

Adon waved him over to the computer where Ritska was sitting. “It seems that this day’s finally turning around. We’ve got control of this ship, and Ritska here’s going to use that to our advantage.” She gave them a pat on the shoulder.

“Please tell me you’re going to blow this place up.”

Ritska shook their head. “I would if I could, but unfortunately there’s no big red self-destruct button like in the movies, so instead I’m going to take the _World Ravager_ and launch her into hyperspace.”

626 thought he knew what they were getting at and grinned. “Please tell me that this thing’s going to give off a hell of a jump wave.”

“It’ll be like throwing a rock into the middle of a pond.”

“ _Nice._ How long do you need?”

“Just another couple of minutes.”

Suddenly, they heard the scratching again, this time paired with labored breathing. 626 growled and tensed up “I don’t know if you’ll have that much.” Without looking away from where he imagined Leroy was going to spring he addressed the others. “Get to one of the escape pods. If we don’t come in five minutes, take off without us. Please.”

The four of them all hurried out as fast as they could, Obrea half-carrying Spon. Soon after Leroy burst out. And it was clear that it was _pissed_. “ATA BOOKIE, ITA PITUGA!” _THAT HURT, ASSHOLE!”_

626 merely held up a claw and made a mock tear-track on the side of his face. “Then don’t try and kill my friends.”

Leroy didn’t bother trying to respond and instead lunged again. This time 626 was ready for it, and before Leroy could land 626 grabbed the console in front of him and swung it outwards. The other experiment was caught, and by some miracle the computer systems managed to smash _just right_ into his teeth. The resulting explosion blasted them both to the floor as Ritska yelped.

“Oi! Watch what you’re doing!”

626 muttered a quick “Sorry” as he followed up with a tackle. Leroy was still dazed, and capitalizing on that 626 starting whaling away on his face. He punched, and punched, and punched, until Leroy was bleeding from both the nose and the mouth and had started focusing entirely on covering as much of his face as it could.

Then, he moaned. “Aggaba…Aggaba!” _Stop…Stop!_

626 realized what he was doing and stopped. The anger was leaving him, and now that he was gazing down at his battered opponent all he could see in that bloodied face was himself, and he remembered that it hadn’t even been a week since Jumba’s raid. _He’s practically newborn._

“626?” Ritska was standing over him, hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go.”

“Alright.” 626 spoke as if he was the one dazed. He pushed off of Leroy and made for the door. All his movements were robotic.

626 and Ritska entered the escape pod. There was a seat next to Obrea, so 626 took it, and as the engines _thrummed_ to life they hugged. Partway into their flight, a loud boom told the six of them that the _World Ravager_ had taken off into hyperspace.

From there, it was all mopping-up. The sudden departure of their capital ship had left the terrorists completely disorganized, and for every one that managed to wink off into hyperspace another was shot down or captured. Everyone on the ground surrendered soon afterwards. There was supposed to be a big speech from Adon, who now found herself the highest-ranking survivor of everyone normally stationed at Whitewood, but 626 didn’t go to it. Instead, he raced to the bathroom and vomited. Later that night, as he was sitting in his assigned quarters the door opened and Spon limped in alongside Obrea.

“Hey.” Spon started, somewhat lamely. “We got some information that might interest you.”

“Yeah?” 626 wasn’t paying attention.

“Apparently one of Jumba’s associates has been known recently to go to planet E-Arth in search of children. One of the anarchists told us about it, and I’m pretty sure it’s legit.”

“And how does this concern me?”

“Well, supposedly his next target was a tropical resort town.” Obrea gave him a reassuring smile. “Odds are, though, after this he won’t show up again, so it’ll probably be a pretty boring assignment.”

626 raised his eyebrow. “A vacation, basically, is that what you’re saying?”

“Basically. And besides, after everything that’s been going on it might be good for you to step out of the limelight for a bit.”

626 snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He sighed. “Fine. I’ll go. Where is this place?”

“I think it’s pronounced ‘khoo-why-eee’?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 626 and Leroy come to blows! If Leroy seems a bit underwhelming during the fight it's intentional: he's still just a newborn, after all.  
> Also, as a side note, all of the Tantalog that I'm using in this chapter comes from a technically-unofficial source, specifically this absolutely-amazing page I found one day browsing DA:   
> https://www.deviantart.com/findingohana/art/Stitch-s-Language-Tantalog-433319492  
> I also want to apologize if the Tantalog grammar's inconsistent: insofar as I know the language doesn't have any hard rules on things like word-order and the like, and as I'm not a linguist I can only do the best I can with what I'm given. It's also the reason why I had 626 switch over to speaking Basic/English early on, to make my life easier when writing him.


	29. Leroy and Hämsterviel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> =====================================================================================  
> PLEASE READ THIS FIRST  
> This next chapter is, in my opinion, a little dicey. I meant for this chapter to act as a window into Leroy's psyche, in order to show his state of mind after the Battle of Gapra and also to develop him as 626's foil.  
> This, in turn, particularly the latter, led to me writing a chapter showing interactions between Leroy and the closest thing that he has to a father-figure, Dr. Hämsterviel. And the nature of their relationship is...not the best.  
> To put it bluntly, I'm writing Dr. Hämsterviel as an abusive parent, and trying to make it as accurate a depiction as the limited space of a single chapter and what I've learned from researching the subject can allow.  
> In light of this, I'm giving this chapter the first-ever Content Warning for a chapter of AER beyond the "Graphic Depictions of Violence" tag at the top: a Content Warning for Parental Abuse.  
> I know that this sort of topic can hit home for many, so I've tried to treat the topic seriously both in-text and in the publishing of the chapter. Also, ultimately this chapter is fairly self-contained: Leroy and Dr. Hämsterviel are the only characters, and the only development that is absolutely, positively crucial to the main plot will become apparent without reading this chapter when Leroy re-enters the plot. This is very much intentional, for if at ANY point in reading either this description or the chapter itself a reader becomes uncomfortable they can safely skip the rest of the chapter without missing out on any essential details.  
> As always, I'm grateful to all my readers and you're support; I'm always honored that y'all continue to read my silly little fic each week, and I only hope that I can continue providing quality material.  
> With that in mind, here's the latest chapter of AER.  
> -Adrastos  
> =====================================================================================

-The Evilest Rodent, _6:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

“Wake up, wake up, WAKE UP!” Leroy awoke to Dr. Hämsterviel roughly shaking him by the side. Even at the best of times Leroy knew that his creator was somewhat less-than-gentle, and it almost seemed like he was going out of his way to press on as many of the burn marks from a few days ago as he could.

Leroy groaned and rolled over in his bed. “Agaba? Baba taka.” _Why? It’s not fair._ ” He still hurt all over and needed to sleep some more.

Hämsterviel was having none of it. “Because _someone_ got his oh-so-red butt handed to him by the original, and we cannot take over the galaxy with failing failure.” Leroy tried to protest that he wasn’t a failure, but Hämsterviel kept going on. “You lost to someone that is a failure, did you not. So if 626 is a failed experiment, and he was able to beat you _twice_ , what does that make you?”

The logic was obvious. “Meega quala chifa?” _I’m a failure?_

Hämsterviel clapped his hands. “You said it, not me!” Then, he leaned over and put his hand on Leroy’s shoulder. Thankfully, this time he missed the burn mark. “Leroy, Jumba and I want you to succeed so we can take over this galaxy in a blaze of nasty naughtiness. We want you to know the joy that it brings _us_. Because I _care_ about you.” Now Hämsterviel’s arm _was_ on the burn mark, making Leroy have to resist the urge to wince. “But we can’t do that if you keep messing up.”

Leroy knew that it was pointless to resist. “Accata. Gaba yuuga taka?” _Alright. What do you want?_ ”

“To work on your form and make you a super-strong powerhouse.” Hämsterviel grabbed his arm and led him to the training area. “Two rounds, then food.”

The door closed, and with a _whirr_ the training simulation sprung to life. Apparently today was going to be a hand-to-hand sim, by the looks of it. The automata sprung to life in pairs and advanced on him, and Leroy sprung into action as best he could. He charged the first par and took one down with a leg sweep before smashing its head into the ground and snapping off an arm from the other to use as a club. He turned to a pair to his left and readied for their arrival.

So intent was he on the assumed second target that he failed to notice that there was another pair right behind him, and all of a sudden he felt a blinding flash of pain as an automaton karate-chopped him across the back. He grunted with pain, spun around and stabbed it through the chest with one pair of hands while decapitating the second automaton with the other pair. Then, before he could react, the earlier target grabbed him and slammed him face-first into the ground.

Hämsterviel’s disapproving voice echoed over the intercom. “You fight like a drunken drunk. Try _harder_.”

Leroy wanted to, he really did. Everything just _hurt_ , and if he didn’t know better he would have thought that Hämsterviel had programmed everything to focus on his injuries. But it couldn’t be that, could it? There was no way that his master would be that cruel.

With a grunt, Leroy forced himself to his feet. He couldn’t fail. Not again. Jumba and Hämsterviel were counting on him to make their vision a reality, and as he’d been told repeatedly, if they failed it would all be his fault. With that in mind, he grabbed the arm he was using and held it up in fighting position. The next pair was felled with ease, and he made sure to check, double check, and triple check from then on. At the end of the session he was exhausted, and all of his body was on fire, but he’d won.

“Not bad.” Hämsterviel sounded approving, and the thought that he’d done a good job was almost enough to make Leroy forget his mistakes at the beginning. “Perhaps I was wrong about you being a failure after all.”

“Chu chomba.” _Thank you_.

Breakfast was a sort of gloop that Hämsterviel occasionally made for him. Leroy had asked for his favorite food to celebrate the end of his first successful mission, but apparently there wasn’t any in stock. Hämsterviel talked to him as he ate.

“I heard the most disturbingly troublesome rumors from the Jitos about your conduct during the battle.”

Leroy froze mid-bite. “Gaba smick?” _What is it?_

“Apparently you had an Armada Colonel at your mercy, but when you went to take the shot you froze and let him live.” Hämsterviel looked at the experiment and gave him a rather sinister smile. “But surely they’re just liars, right? There’s no way that you’d be a little goody six-paws, now would you?” When Leroy was forced to answer that yes, he _had_ been unable to kill the colonel, Hämsterviel’s smile immediately dropped. “Unbelievable.” He turned away and started muttering to himself. “But the Bloodwrath Paradigm was integrated successfully. I did it myself. Leroy shouldn’t be _hesitating_ , he should be tearing out all their limbs and laughing about it! Did I make a mistake?” He scoffed. “No. That’s preposterous. The great Dr. Jacques von Hämsterviel could _never_ slip up. It must be Leroy’s fault.”

He turned back around. “Finish your breakfast. We need to train some more.”

“Da chatti nay…” _But I was_ …

Hämsterviel slammed the table. NOW! Since you were unable to pull the trigger it is obviously evident that you still have some flaws to work out! Am I clear?”

Leroy’s ears drooped. “Ih.” _Yes_.

“Good.”

Hämsterviel turned and left, trying to keep a lid on his temper. How could Leroy be like this? He was supposed to be the perfect fighting machine, supposed to be their weapon against the Federation, yet he’d been just as disobedient as 626! It couldn’t stand. He wouldn’t let it.

Fortunately, since he was such a nice person, he’d give Leroy a chance for a do-over. They’d managed to capture some prisoners during the battle, so Hämsterviel figured that he’d let Leroy make up for his failure by killing them. _But what if he can’t?_ The thought struck him. _No. He will. He MUST._

Leroy received a shock when he re-entered the training room. Instead of the simulation he’d been expecting he’d found a pair of terrified soldiers trussed up in the middle of the room, while Hämsterviel glared at them. “Ika na nista chi?” He asked. _What’s going on?_

Hämsterviel turned and smiled that evil smile again and handed him a pair of guns. “I’m giving you a chance to make up for your failure. All you have to do is shoot these moronic morons and show me that you really are the fighter we want you to be.”

Leroy took the guns and tried to quash his uncertainties. If Hämsterviel saw them he’d get mad, after all. So instead, he stepped towards one of the soldiers and raised his weapon.

_Click_

Leroy realized that he couldn’t do it.

‘All you have to do is shoot these moronic morons’, Hämsterviel had said, as though he was asking Leroy to fetch something from the pantry. As though the act of taking a life was no harder than making a sandwich. Truth be told, there _was_ a part of Leroy, a tiny, tiny, part, that wanted that. A tiny part that was urging him onwards, not to please Hämsterviel or to complete his mission, but out of the desire to maim, to kill, to make someone bleed.

And that part terrified him. That part had nearly come out when he was fighting 626, and when Leroy had realized it afterwards he’d rolled up into a corner of the spaceship and started sobbing. He couldn’t let it out again. He just couldn’t.

But what if that meant disappointing Hämsterviel? He’d given him life, and training, and said that he’d cared for him, so how ungrateful would it be for Leroy to refuse the order to kill? Not to mention how angry it would make him…

_Do it_. The voice whispered. _Just do it. Do it for the master if it makes you feel better._

_But…_

_DO IT! Don’t you want him to love you?_

_But what if it’s wrong to kill?_

_‘What if it’s wrong to kill’?_ Now the voice was mocking him. _That’s why the master thinks you’re a failure. Because you’re spineless like that. DO IT! KILL THE BASTARD! MAKE HIM BLEED!_

Before Leroy could respond to the voice he felt a slap across the face, and then _he_ was bleeding. It was Hämsterviel. “What are you waiting for! The longer you wait, the more pathetic it is! DO IT!”

_DOITDOITDOITDOITDOITDOITDOITDOIT_

Leroy closed his eyes and used his lower set of arms to stop his ears, but the voice didn’t stop, it only got louder, and _louder_ , and all of a sudden there was another sound, a gunshot, and Leroy felt the recoil of a plasma cannon.

He opened his eyes. The barrel in his left hand was smoking, as was the crater in the center of his victim. _Ah. I killed a man._ And then he fell to his knees and vomited.

Hämsterviel confined Leroy to his room and left him alone the rest of the day. Leroy spent almost all of it curled up in bed, trying to forget what he’d done. Finally, it was night, and he managed to settle down into an uneasy sleep filled with dreams of bloodied hands and smoking guns.

Then he was awake and strapped to a table in Hämsterviel’s lab. _What…_

Then the shocks came. Leroy felt like his entire body was on fire as the table was bathed in blue electricity, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming.

Then Hämsterviel was speaking over the intercom, all affability replaced with a cold, red, rage. “Leroy, I’m sick of you failing me. I wanted to do this the easy way, but now I see I have no choice. I made a mistake-if you’re going to be the war machine you are meant to, if I’m to activate the Bloodwrath Paradigm, I need to induce it. And for that, I need pain.”

Then the shocks again, and when they stopped Leroy couldn’t help but moan.

Hämsterviel was uncaring. “You brought this on yourself, Leroy.”

The shocks came again, worse this time, and Leroy screamed.


	30. Earth

- _Galactic Control, 9:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

“So remember, even though Earth has _technically_ been contacted by aliens before, access is still strictly restricted. Meet the wrong person, and it’s mass-hysteria and planet-wide panic!”

Agent Pleakley knew his stuff about Earth, to be sure, but at the same time it didn’t stop 626 from finding the limp noodle fairly irritating. Maybe it was his floppy mannerisms or his high-pitched voice, or his tendency to go from 0 to 60 at the slightest provocation. Case in point, when 626 had questioned how a species nearly as delicate as he was claiming was even remotely able to build a civilization Pleakley had jammed a ‘View-master’ in his face and started shouting “educate yourself!” So after that 626 had just sat quietly, nodded when applicable, and occasionally answered a question or two. It reminded him quite a bit of his academy days in truth.

At the moment Pleakley was moving away from a generic explanation of the earth in favor of focusing on the area 626 was going to be deployed to: a tropical island in the middle of the ocean named ‘Kaua’i.’ The island itself looked like something out of a tourist brochure, covered in bright green palm fronds and bordered on every side by sunny beaches. It was also fairly rural, with only about 58,000 inhabitants, which likely was why Hämsterviel chose it as the site of his retreat.

“Unless he’s on the island to the far southeast called ‘Kaho’olawe’, which isn’t inhabited by anyone and is a protected intergalactic nature reserve.”

“Nature reserve?”

“For the mosquitos.” Pleakley explained. “My contact on the planet says that they’re an endangered species, so even with the planet opening I volleyed to make sure that they could still have somewhere to roost unharmed.” Pleakley walked over to the experiment. “Now remember, mister: they’re endangered, so don’t. harm. them.” He prodded 626 in the chest.

“Right. No mosquitos harmed.” 626 nodded.

“Good. Now when you make planetfall we want you to contact our person as soon as possible.” Pleakley turned on the monitor, which showed the picture of an immense (and fairly intimidating, in 626’s opinion) man wearing a pair of sunglasses. "His name is Cobra Bubbles. He was our point man back during initial contact.” Pleakley sighed and shook his head. “Those were the days. Ohh, to have been old enough to work here when we made contact! To talk with the Earthlings themselves before anyone else in the galaxy! It would have been amazing, even considering the circumstances.”

626 hadn’t heard this story before. “What happened?” Part of him wondered if he was about to learn about _another_ skeleton in the Federation’s closet.

Pleakley snorted. “Back in 1977 the Earthlings sent out a probe to the stars in order to try and contact life on other planets. They put a bunch of songs on there, and one of them became _quite_ the hit in some intergalactic circles.” He pressed a button and immediately the room filled with music.

_Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,_

_Way back up in the woods among the evergreens…_

“Pretty good!” 626 liked the song. A lot.

“I know, right!?” Pleakley turned the music off. “Anyways, some college kids at the G.A.C.C. decided to reply, so they took their spaceships, went to the atmosphere above the biggest city on Earth, and lit up with the message ‘SEND MORE CHUCK BERRY’. Cue planetary and intergalactic panic, a hasty embassy based around Mr. Bubbles and this guy named ‘Roi Neeree’ or something, and contact was established."

“Well, that’s…interesting.” Of all the planetary contacts 626 had learned about over the years, this was the only one to involve a bunch of shitfaced undergrads. Truth be told, though, it was the sort of thing he could totally see Spon doing, if he thought about it. “Anything else I need to know?”

Pleakley shook his head. “Not really. Just go to Bubbles, keep your head down, and once you two locate Dr. Hämsterviel call us so the Armada can send a capture team." Pleakley then turned and left without so much as a ‘goodbye’ or ‘good luck.’ At least, until he popped his head back in and told 626 to try and get some pictures or knick-knacks if he could, _then_ wished him good luck. 626 just shook his head and chuckled.

***

About an hour or so later he was sitting in his cruiser, ready to fly as soon as he got clearance.

He ran through the familiar checklist. “Engine, Check. Auto Brake, Off. Compass Controllers, Slaved. Emergency Lights, Armed. Seat Belt, On.” And for something different, “H-drive, Primed.” This was going to be _quite_ the jump – well over three hours, according to Control.

“Copy that.” The radio cracked. “Airman 626, you are cleared for liftoff.”

“Roger.” 626 started forwards, listening to the sweet purr of the engine. He always loved liftoff. He flew up to his hyperspace ring, engaged, and flipped the comm back on. “This is Airman 626. Requesting hyperspace clearance.”

“Granted. Godspeed, Airman.”

And then he was off.

True to predictions the hyperspace jump was _long_ (three hours and twenty minutes, to be precise), and 626 took the opportunity to take a quick nap. He woke up ten minutes before dropping out of hyperspace, readied himself, dropped out of hyperspace –

And promptly sheared off the ring on the corner of a space station.

“Oh, fu –”

The sudden destabilization was too much for his craft to handle, and he started immediately spiraling out of control. It was then that 626 remembered something Pleakley had told him:

“ _Earth is 75% water, and in some areas so deep that any skeletal life would be crushed instantly!”_

 _Right,_ 626 thought, _let’s avoid that._ He knew that he had to move fast if he wanted this to end in anything other than a painful death, so to start he jettisoned the remnants of the stabilizing ring and rolled out of the way. He watched it spin to earth, but now he had a new problem: the craft was now spiraling down out of control. _Blitznak, blitznak, blitznak!_ If he kept spiraling he’d run the risk of passing out, and then it would be over. But now to stabilize it? _First, I need to slow down_. He started applying the brake, ever so slightly, and rather than trying to fight the spin just went with it as best he could. Gradually he increased the brake and, feeling the cruiser slowing down somewhat, began to try and get himself out of the spiral. _C’monC’monC’mon…_

Finally the cruiser managed to level out enough that he could actively direct it, but he was still crashing, and judging by the diagnostics something near the engines had snapped badly enough that the only option was a controlled descent. At least it was something he could work with; 626 realized that he’d been holding his breath and exhaled.

“Okay, then, gotta land _somewhere_ near-ish the island.” But where on the planet was he in relation to that? He looked out: everything was blue as far as he could see. Wait…what was that in the upper right corner? Was that land?

626 squinted at it: it was: he could see a long, thin taper and a peninsula to the west of it. He tried to remember the globe Pleakley had shown him and realized that he was actually fairly close to his destination. _Huh_. 

A couple seconds later he noticed a large island in the middle of all that blue, and as he got closer he saw that there was in fact a chain of them stretching off to the northwest. It was Hawai’i! Somehow he’d found it! _Let’s see. Kaua’i is a bit far from all the rest, circular… ah ha!_ Destination found!

He eased the craft up slightly and made for the island. As he shot downwards the diagnostic started chiming in more and more. Apparently the break was spreading, and from the sudden heat it appeared that things were starting to burn back there. He patted the console. “Just a little more. Please. Just a little more. That’s all I ask.”

Then, before he knew it, he’d landed. 626 just barely managed to open the hatch and scurry out before the poor cruiser exploded. “You did well,” 626 told the charred remains, “thanks for everything.” The experiment turned away and hopped through the foliage. First thing he had to do was find Agent Bubbles, although now that he thought about it, Pleakley’d completely forgotten to tell him his whereabouts. The experiment sighed. “Great. Just great.”

In that case, SOP was to find a city and try and make reach out from there, and thankfully not long afterwards 626 hopped out of the undergrowth and landed on a road.

In the middle was a small, green quadruped. 626 cleared his throat and talked to them. “Excuse me, can you point me in the direction of the nearest town?”

No response, just a stare.

626 walked over. “Hel-lo? Can you understand me?”

 _Croak_.

626 blinked. He didn’t know what it was saying. “DO-YOU-SPEAK-BA-SIC?” He asked it. “IF-YOU-DO-CAN-YOU-TELL-ME-you’re not sentient, are you?” _Well, 626, now you look like an idiot_.

The quadruped hopped away, and before 626 could follow it he heard a honking noise coming from up the road. He turned, shielded his eyes from the sudden light, and realized that it was a vehicle.

“HEY!” He shouted. “I NEED A LIFT! MY NAME IS EXPERIMENT 626 OF THE GALACTIC –”

He just had time to realize that the truck wasn’t going to stop before it slammed into him. Indestructible as he was being hit by a truck still hurt like, well, getting hit by a truck, and to make it worse it never seemed to _end_. Finally, after what had to be at least three of the damn things, 626 was about to lose consciousness. Wedged up beneath the underside, drifting out of consciousness, 626 realized that he was attracting an audience.

One of the Earthlings flashed a light in his face, and the sudden brightness was too much for his brain to handle. The last thing he heard as he sunk into blackness was the Earthling speaking:

“We better call somebody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And 626 finally arrives on Earth! The next couple chapters are going to cleave fairly close to the movie in terms of dialogue/certain events, and which if I'm being honest does make the writing process a bit easier.  
> Also, the depiction of 626's crash-landing on earth here is probably completely inaccurate from an actual flight perspective, and I apologize for that - physics and aerodynamics are very much not my wheelhouse as far as writing goes.


	31. Lilo

- _Aloha Animal Resuce, Kaua’i, 10:00 Hawai’i – Aluetian Standard Time_ -

626’s head hurt. As he regained consciousness that was the first thing that he realized. He groaned, which just made things worse. He also registered cool stone under him.

Trembling. He could hear some people trembling and shaking, and there were a bunch of little metallic clinks. _What’s going on?_

He was suddenly aware of the smell. It was the smell of fresh air and, vaguely, salt, along with the slight but unmistakable smell of animal shit. _Am I in a zoo?_ He wondered.

The only thing to do was to open his eyes. 626 opened them a crack, and as he did so his headache exploded. He clapped one pair of paws to his head and used the other to cover his eyes. _Was sunlight ALWAYS this painful_? Half a minute or so later he gave it another go. This time he was able to get them all the way open, although it still felt like someone was stabbing him in the forehead, so he looked around. He was in a cage, he realized, a stone cage. He turned. Wait. This wasn’t a cage – there was open air behind him. Along with four furry things that trembled as they looked at him.

Hoping to calm them, 626 raised all four of his hands in the air, palms outwards. “It’sh okay. I’m not dangeroush.” His tongue felt like a glob of wet cement in his mouth, but he was pretty sure that he was coherent enough. Not that the furry things responded. Instead, they continued trembling, and 626 realized that they weren’t sentient. _Great. Of course_. He turned back to what he’d thought were the bars of the cage. They looked easy enough to bend open, so he did so before stepping out into the hallway. He looked around, trying to see if there was a sign, but the only one he could see had some sort of lettering that he couldn’t recognize. He squinted at it. _Maybe it’s just REALLY STYLIZED Federation Script?_ Of course, considering that working from that caused the sign to say “NDO9U UODNE”, he doubted it. _Well, nothing to do but leave_. 626 decided that it would be a good idea to be going gun in hand, so he reached down into his suit to get it –

And touched fur. _Uh oh._ He reached into his other pocket. Fur. Panicking, he slapped his chest. Just fur.

His suit was gone, probably destroyed when he’d been run over. He was buck naked.

_Oh, you have GOT to be kidding me_.

He was alone on an unfamiliar planet, he couldn’t read any of the signs, he had no way to contact the Federation or their earthly contact, and to top it all off if he tried to leave he’d wind up streaking the entire planet.

With this in mind, 626 did the only thing he could: turned around, mechanically walked back into the cage, and started banging his head on the wall. He did so for several minutes, long enough and hard enough to start dislodging the brick from the wall, and he only stopped when he was able to hear the sound of footsteps coming closer. He froze. _Friends, or foes?_ Could he even _talk_ with them?

Then, he heard the sweetest sound he’d heard since liftoff: Galactic Basic. “Hellooooooo? Are there any aminals in here?”

It was a little kid. 626 was at war with himself: did he stay hidden, or go out and meet her? If he went he’d run the risk of terrifying the living daylights out of her, and that would be about the one thing that could possibly make things worse. On the other hand, if he stayed, he’d be passing up what might be his only chance at hooking up with sentient life. _What to do? Hide and stay alone, or go out and cause a panic?_ He thought about Hämsterviel, out there somewhere, rounding up children. _Ah, screw it_. 626 took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.

The little girl looked at him with the deepest black eyes he’d ever seen and gaped.

626 gave her his best smile. “Uhhh, hello?” _Pleasedontscreampleasedontscream_

She kept gaping at him, but then, suddenly, her face changed from shock to awe. “Are you an _alien?_ ” She whispered.

‘Alien’, Pleakley had explained, was the Earthling word for anyone from another planet. “Yes, yes I am.” 626 stuck out a paw. “Airman Experiment 626 of the Galactic Armada. Pleased to meet you.”

“My name’s Lilo.” She shook his paw, wide-eyed. “Lilo Pelekai.” Then she grinned. “I can’t believe I’m talking to a real-life alien! Are you here to abduct cows? If you are, then you’re in the wrong place. You should try Kansas.” She looked him over. “Do most aliens look like dogs?”

“No, and no. Also, most of the time I wear clothes. I, uh, lost them last night when I got run over.”

“You got run over and lived? Wow!” Lilo tilted her head. “But why _are_ you here?”

626 thought it best not to tell her. “Official business. Top secret. For the military. Speaking of which, do you know any way I can contact the Federation?”

She shook her head. “Try asking the police.”

“Will do.”

“Of course, officer Kahiko’s _really_ busy most of the time, so you might have to wait a bit.” Lilo frowned, lost in thought. “But you shouldn’t just go walking around until then, ‘cause if you do the Men in Black might snatch you up and dissect you…” She snapped her fingers. “I’ve got an idea? What if you stay at my place for a little while? Me and my sister’ve got a nice house, and I can definitely convince her to let you stay with us!”

“I don’t want to make trouble…”

Lilo waved her hand in dismissal. “It’s fine! It won’t be for very long! What do you say.”

626 sighed. It was better than running around the island hoping to just randomly bump into either agent Bubbles or this ‘officer Kahiko’ person, he supposed. “Alright, you win. Just give me a second.” 626 inhaled and, grunting, started to force his lower pair of arms backwards until they were completely covered by his body before doing the same to his antennae and his spines. When he was finished he explained his thinking. “If I look like one of these furry things I can blend in as one of them, don’t you think?”

“Dogs…aren’t blue…” Lilo had to take a moment to process what she’d just witnessed. “Eh. I’m sure it’s fine. Just make sure to walk on all fours, and when you’re talking to someone just bark like this!” She made an _arf arf_ sound. “Come on! Let’s go!” She beckoned to 626 as she started to walk back down the hallway.

The two walked out right in the middle of a conversation between a woman that 626 imagined was Lilo’s sister and another, paler woman. “Yes, all of our dogs are adoptable…” she was explaining when she turned and saw 626, “EXCEPT THAT ONE!” She vaulted out of her chair at top speed and grabbed him while Lilo was grabbed by her sister.

“What _is_ that thing?” The latter asked.

“A dog, I think! But it was dead this morning!” _That explains the panic,_ 626 thought.

“It was _dead_ this morning?”

“We THOUGHT it was dead, it was hit by a TRUCK!” _Three of them, actually_.

“IIIIII _like_ him!” Lilo chimed in. “Come here, boy!”

626 decided to do what he imagined was the proper dog thing to do and began trying to struggle towards her. Lilo’s sister promptly back halfway across the room, much to the annoyance of both 626 and Lilo.

“Wouldn’t you like a different dog?” The sister asked.

“Nope. He’s good. I can tell.”

The two women stared at each other. Then, with a look that plainly said “ _oh, for the love of God_ ” Lilo’s sister let go of her sister. With a matching look the other woman let go of 626 and scurried behind her desk to get some paperwork.

“You’ll have to think of a name for him.” She looked out at Lilo.

Lilo thought for a moment while 626 looked out the window. “His name is…Stitch.”

626’s head turned sharply towards her. _Stitch?_ He mouthed. Lilo just shrugged.

“Alright then, Stitch it is.” She held the paperwork out to Lilo. “Now, if you could sign here and put his name, it’ll be two dollars.”

Lilo signed and looked up at her sister. “Nani, can I have two dollars?” Nani rolled her eyes and gave Lilo the two dollars, who promptly passed them back to her so that she could give them to the other woman. The matter was rather confusing, 626 thought.

The woman then stamped the paperwork and handed it to Lilo. “He’s all yours.”

“Thank you very much.” Lilo stuffed it into her clothing, missing the last look of sheer confusion that passed between the other two.

As Nani, Lilo and 626 started walking away from the building (which was apparently named Aloha animal rescue), 626 realized that Nani was staring at him. He tried to ignore it, but she just kept doing it. After a while he turned to her and let out a little _arf_ like Lilo had said to.

Nani blinked and turned to her sister. “So, uh, I guess we need to get him a collar and a leash. Wanna go downtown? We can get ice cream while we’re there!”

“Yay!” Lilo cheered. “It’s my turn to pick!”

Nani chuckled and continued walking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken 31 Chapters, but this Lilo & Stitch Fanfic finally has Lilo in it. She's actually really fun to write, as it turns out, so she's probably gonna play a bigger role than originally intended.


	32. Peace

- _Downtown Kokaua Town, 11:15 Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Time_ -

Ice Cream was delicious, 626 had decided. Shortly after getting him a leash and collar (626 suddenly realized where the term ‘petplay’ came from and had to remind himself that this was emphatically _not_ what was going on here) the Pelekai sisters – not mother and daughter, as he’d assumed – had gone downtown and visited a little shop called Kiki’s Coffee Hut and gotten themselves some lunch. Lilo had ordered herself a pair of bubblegum cones, one of which she’d stealthily passed to him, and the experiment had downed it in one bite. It was a move he instantly regretted, as no sooner had the sweet coolness started working its way down his throat when he suddenly felt like he’d been stabbed in the forehead. _An attack!_

Immediately, 626 yanked Lilo out of her chair. “Get down!”

“What’s the matter?” She didn’t sound scared, only confused.

“I think someone’s trying to get at us.” The feeling intensified, and it was getting hard to keep his eyes open. “All of a sudden my head started pounding like someone took a knife to it.”

“Really? You look fine…” Lilo examined his forehead. “Doesn’t _look_ like anything happened.”

626 thought about it. “Maybe it’s some kind of energy weapon?” Apropos of nothing, and completely at odds with the danger they were in. Lilo started chuckling. “What’s so funny?”

“Well, it _could_ be an alien death ray, _or_ ,” she waved her ice-cream cone in front of him, “It could be brain freeze.”

“What now?”

“You know, brain freeze! When you eat something cold too fast.”

“I’ve never experienced this before.” By now one of his eyes was completely closed and the other wasn’t far behind. “Any way to get rid of it?”

“Easy. Just rub the roof of your mouth with your tongue, like this.” She opened her mouth wide and demonstrated.

626 copied her. Surprisingly, it helped immensely. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” She grinned. “I can’t believe that aliens get brain freeze. How many brains do you have?”

“Just the one?” It was an odd question. “There’s only one species I’ve encountered that has more. It’s called an Ood, and it carries a little brain in its’ hands.”

“Really? Wow.” Lilo was amazed.

Nani must have returned while they were talking, because suddenly feet had appeared right where Lilo was sitting. “Lilo, _why are you down on the ground_?” It was all 626 could do not to go back into fight-mode. _Take it easy, buddy. It’s no more dangerous here than it was at the academy. For now, at least_.

Lilo climbed back into her chair. “Stitch got brain freeze, so I was comforting him.” She reached over to grab one of the muffins Nani had brought. “Can we go surfing later? I want to teach him.”

Nani sighed. “Lilo, I’ve got work tonight, remember? Maybe tomorrow.”

“Can we do it if I promise not to hit Mertle for a week?”

“I’ll think about it. Is that good enough?”

626 wondered who this titular ‘Mertle’ was, and just what she’d done to piss of a girl as nice as Lilo seemed to be. Regardless, Lilo seemed satisfied with this tentative deal, and shortly afterwards the three of them left the coffee shop. Nani soon split from them to go take care of something, and Lilo was about to lead him down to the beach when a trio of kids pulled up on little three-wheeled cycles.

Immediately, Lilo perked up. “My friends!” She grabbed 626’s arm and ran over to them, waving.

Apparently, the feeling was less-than-mutual. The girl in front, a pale-skinned redhead, immediately skidded to a stop. “What do you want?”

“I’m sorry I bit you. And pulled your hair. And punched you in the face.” 626 had to suppress a snort at Lilo’s admission, and he was suddenly reminded of Spon.

“Apology _not_ accepted. Now get out of my way before I –” she finally noticed 626. “AAAHHH! What is that thing?”

“I got a new dog! His name is Stitch!”

“ _That_ is the _ugliest_ thing I have ever seen.” Just as Lilo had reminded him of Spon, now this girl was reminding 626 an awful lot of Dixon.

And that was all he could take. Without skipping a beat he ran up to the little shit, ignoring her frantic cries of “get it away from me!” before grabbing the front end of her vehicle and flipping her off it. He then turned and tossed it into the sky. Where it landed he had no idea, but he was pretty sure that it at least cleared the mountain. Mertle started bawling at that, so he turned to her and decided to break character for a moment.

“Oh, shut up, will you?” 626 turned and walked back to Lilo. “Stupid entitled pricks.” He grumbled.

The three girls all stared, unsure of what just happened, before wordlessly turning and booking it as fast as they could.

“Well that was mean!” Lilo protested. “Mertle’s my friend!”

“ _Her?_ Lilo, I don’t think the feeling’s mutual.” 626 looked back at her. “Why did you punch her, by the way?”

Lilo looked somewhat ashamed, hurt, and proud all at the same time. “Well, there’s this fish in the ocean named Pudge…”

***

That night they went to Nani’s workplace for dinner, a place called ‘Ohi’a Luau’, which judging by the look on Nani’s face and the clientele was more-or-less the quintessential ‘local atmosphere tourist trap’. 626 found it kind of interesting; he’d never been anywhere touristy before, and he wondered how this place compared to tourist traps around the Federation. At any rate, the cake here was pretty good, at least. It had the flavor of something Lilo called a ‘coconut’, which seemed to be an earth specialty. The entertainment was also interesting: on tap for tonight was a fire performer named David – whose butt and fancy hair were apparently rather appealing to Nani, at least according to Lilo – who managed to perform an impressive showing before accidentally setting the stage on fire.

“Is he going to be okay?” 626 winced as David tried to put out his mess.

“Yeah. It happens all the time.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Says the secret agent!”

626 looked at her. “I told you, I’m _not_ a secret agent! I’m just a solider.”

“Then why can’t you tell me what you’re investigating? Maybe I could help, and I promise that I’ll stay out of trouble.”

The experiment sighed. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Alright, fine. I’ll tell you what I’m doing, but only if you keep it between us.”

Lilo crossed her heart. “Promise.”

626 leaned in. “I’m investigating some kidnappings. There’s this dangerous criminal named Dr. Hämsterviel running about Hawai’i somewhere. It’s why I need to get in contact with the Federation’s person here on Earth, so we can cooperate and share information.”

“What kind of kidnappings?” Lilo was unexpectedly serious for some reason. “Who are they taking?”

“Well, to put it bluntly, people like you. Little kids.” It was a hard truth to take, so 626 started thinking carefully about his next words.

He didn’t need to. “I _knew it!_ ” Lilo slammed a fist into her palm. “I _knew_ something weird happened to Elena!”

“Oh?” 626 couldn’t believe it. Of all the people to run into, he found someone who might actually have some sort of lead. “Who’s Elena?”

“One of my friends, although she usually hangs out with Mertle. She was at Hula practice yesterday and everything seemed normal, but when we ran into Mertle and the others this afternoon she wasn’t there.”

626 deflated a bit. “Maybe she had something else to do?”

Lilo shook her head. “Today’s Saturday. There’s no Hula School or anything like that, and Mertle’s _never_ without all three of them.”

“That still doesn’t mean –”

“One more thing. Mertle’s tricycle is orange and has red wheels. The one she rode yesterday was blue and had pink wheels.” Lilo leaned over to 626’s ear. “It was Elena’s.” She whispered. Between that, the fact that she normally sticks to Mertle like glue, and those two green lights last night, I just _know_ she was abducted by aliens.”

“Wait – _two_ green lights?”

“Yeah. One soared over town at about 9 PM, and the other exploded down in a great big fireball about two and a half hours later. I’m guessing the second one was you?”

626 nodded. “Couldn’t you have _led_ with that? It means Hämsterviel was on the island last night.”

“See, I told you.” Lilo had a smug look on her face, like she had no idea how much trouble they were in.

There was a crashing sound like broken glass, but 626 paid it no mind. “Look,” he hissed, “this means you’re in _real danger_. If Dr. Hämsterviel’ was here last night in time to kidnap your friend, it means he probably saw me crash, and he’s smart enough to put the dots together enough to know that whoever crashed was from the Federation.”

_“_ So?”

“He’ll be coming after me, and you now that we’re connected! Don’t you see, he’s –”

They were suddenly both aware that they had an audience of one in the form of Nani Pelekai, who was standing over them with her jaw open. “Wh…wh…wha…”

_Oh, blitznak. Of kriffing COURSE_. Well, no sense pretending to be a dog around her any longer. 626 gave her the same winning smile and wave he’d given Lilo, praying that it would work twice. “Um, I can explain all of this.”

“HOLY SHIT!” Nani screamed. “YOU JUST TALKED!”

The experiment rolled his eyes. “Yep. Thanks for announcing it.”

“But you – you’re a _dog!_ Dogs can’t talk!”

“Actually I’m an alien.” He stuck out his hand. “Airman Experiment 626 of the Galactic Armada, at your service.”

Nani took his paw, which 626 took as a good sign. “The dog is from outer space. Because of course he is.”

“Is there a problem, Miss Pelekai?” A deep voice suddenly made itself apparent, and clearly its owner was less-than-happy.

Nani immediately blushed. “Oh, uh, Mr. Bubbles!”

_Wait,_ 626 thought. _Mr. Bubbles? It can’t be_.

Nani continued talking. “We just got a new dog and it surprised me.”

The voice’s owner came into view, eyeing 626. “Yes, I can see why. That dog is almost…otherworldly-looking, one might say.”

And he would know, too, for the speaker was none other than one Cobra Bubbles, the same man that 626 was supposed to meet up with.

Who just so happened to be familiar the very same people 626 had blundered across completely by accident.

_Are. You. Kidding. Me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why yes, I did casually mention Petplay in a Lilo & Stitch fanfic. If you don't know what that is, Google it.  
> Unless you're somewhere in public, in which case, don't.  
> Also please excuse the gratuitous and entirely unnecessary Doctor Who reference.


	33. Waves

- _Ohi’a Luau, 19:00 Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Time_ -

626 legitimately had no idea what he was supposed to do now. The odds that he would somehow blunder across the _two_ people on the island who already knew the _one_ person that he was supposed to have gotten in touch with upon landing were so low as to boggle the mind, so low that even his supercomputer-level calculations tried to figure them out and almost immediately went _screw that noise, it’s too hard_. He was completely flat-footed, so instead he decided to stay silent for the moment and instead let Nani and Mr. Bubbles sort out whatever _they_ had to first.

“Your…dog…wasn’t at your house when I came to call yesterday. I’m assuming you just purchased him this afternoon?”

“This morning. I thought that Lilo might be safer with one guarding her, so we went down to the pet store and picked someone out.”

Lilo pulled out the certificate she’d gotten from the pet store person. “See? His name is _Stitch!_ ”

Bubbles looked it over. “Aloha Animal Rescue. Seems reputable. Has he been trained?”

Nani blushed. “Well, not that we know of, but…”

“I see.” He looked back at 626 and gave a little _hmm_ of disapproval. “I suggest that you get on that. Now, do you _always_ use such language at work?”

“No! Of course not! If I did I’d be fired on the spot. Look, I’m really sorry that you had to overhear that. I promise that I’m not normally like that.”

“I hope so.” Bubbles looked around. “I also hope that your boss is as understanding as I am.” Things seemed like they were going to wrap up without issue, but instead Bubbles leaned in. Nani blinked, and from what 626 could tell suddenly seemed somewhat afraid.

Bubbles didn’t give her the chance to speak, and instead whispered in her ear. “ _Meet me behind the stage after you get dismissed for the night. I need to talk to you. Bring Lilo and your…dog._ ”

“Oh, um, ok.” Nani stepped away from him and coughed. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to get back to work.” And then she was off, weaving her way through the tables. Bubbles gave Lilo a nod, and then wandered off himself.

“Do you know him?” Lilo asked the experiment. “I think he knows you’re an alien.”

“You noticed that, huh? Pretty sure he does.”

***

- _Ohi’a Luau, 21:00 Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Time_ -

Finally, Nani was done for the night. She clocked out, collected Lilo and 626 from their table, and duly took them over to where Bubbles awaited them.

“So, what did you need to talk about?” Nani asked. “If this is still about earlier, I talked with my boss, and he’s fine letting it slide just this once.”

“That’s good to hear, but that wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.” Bubbles lowered his sunglasses and looked Nani in the eye. “Nani, I wanted to talk to you about your ‘dog’. Earlier today, you yelled out that he was talking, did you not?”

“That was only –”

Bubbles interrupted her. “It _was_ him talking. Your ‘dog’ is actually an extra-terrestrial life-form by the name of Experiment 626.” Seeing that neither Nani nor Lilo reacted, he frowned. “You knew already?”

“It was news to me this evening, I can tell you that.”

“ _I_ knew from the beginning!” Lilo interjected.

“Yet you still purchased him like an animal.”

“Only because I asked them to.” Bubbles and Lilo took 626 talking completely in stride, having expected it; Nani still jumped a bit. “I thought it was safer than trying to walk around an unfamiliar planet on my own.”

“Ah. I assume that you will be willing to reimburse them for the adoption fees and supply costs?”

“Of course.” It was a whopping thirty-eight dollars; not exactly something that would break the bank.

“Good. Well then, all this makes my job easier.” Bubbles looked at the Pelekais. “Now, I imagine that you two rather want to get home, and 626 and I have matters to discuss. I will be in touch before the night ends.”

Nani gave the man a nod. “Come on, Lilo.”

“What about Stitch?”

“He and Mr. Bubbles need to talk about private stuff.”

626 gave his new friend a wave. “I’ll talk to you later. Sorry about all this.”

After they’d left, Bubbles motioned for 626 to follow him. The two walked out to the Earthling’s car, which 626 noticed was deceptively advanced compared to the cars around it.

Once they were seated, Bubbles turned to the experiment. “I trust that you are well?”

“Mostly. My arms are killing me.” 626 took the opportunity to pop back out everything he’d retracted back in the animal shelter. After an entire day staying hidden, his arms ached, and his antennae felt strangely musty. “Masquerading as a dog isn’t the easiest thing in the world, let me tell you.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Bubbles chuckled, sounding surprisingly warm. “Are you aware that there was another spacecraft that touched down last night besides yours?”

“I was. Lilo told me that there was a green light over town, and it definitely wasn’t me. Nor was it anyone else sent by the Federation.” 626 looked at the Earthling. “Was it Dr. Hämsterviel?”

“If it wasn’t you, and it wasn’t someone else from the Federation, we can only assume so.”

“Where did the ship land? Do you know?”

Bubbles sighed. “No. We lost track of it, unfortunately.”

“I see.” 626 sighed as well. “In that case, all we can do is wait.”

“What will you do now?”

“Probably stay with Lilo, if you don’t mind. She told me that children her age have been vanishing from the island as of late, and I’d like to make sure she’s ok. Not to mention, if any of her so-called ‘friends’ vanish she’ll be the first to know, and maybe I can use that to sniff Hämsterviel out.”

“Just so long as you keep her out of trouble.”

“I will.” That, he vowed: no harm would come to Lilo Pelekai if he could help it.

***

- _Lahui Beach, 4:00 Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Time_ -

“Huh? _Surfing?_ ” 626 had never heard of it, whatever this sport was that Nani and Lilo had dragged him down to the ocean for. “It’s not _in_ the water, is it? I can’t swim.”

Lilo made a face. “ _How_ can you not swim? Do aliens not do that?”

“I’m too dense.” 626 taped his chest. “It’s all the muscle and things.”

“Really? Cool. Surfing _is_ in the ocean, by the way. Sorry.”

“Right, then I guess that I’ll just stay on the beach if that’s alright.”

“But it’s fun!”

“Maybe for you.” 626 looked out at the ocean and gulped. “If I go in there I’ll drown.”

Nani patted his head. “You’ll be fine. As long as you stay on the surfboard, you’ll be able to breath. I’ll show you how when we get onto the water.”

And that was the end of that. Against his better nature, 626 wound up following the Pelekai sisters – and that performer from the night before Nani liked, whose name turned out to be David – down to the surf, where he hopped onto a surfboard behind Nani while Lilo went with David. 626 looked over to hear, heart pounding. Lilo smiled and gave him a thumbs up while Nani and David pushed off into the water.

Soon, they were deep enough that some sort of creature called a “Green Sea Turtle” could swim under them without even reacting to their presence. There were waves out here, little ones, so David and Lilo promptly split off and started racing their board up and down them.

“Is that surfing?” 626 asked.

“ _That?_ ” Nani laughed. “That’s just warming up. Wait until we hit waves double that height. Then we’ll _really_ be surfing.” She looked back at him and frowned. “Are you going to be ok back there? You look like you’re about to vomit.”  
“I’ll be fine.” 626 was speaking more to himself than to her. _It’s no more dangerous than flying in deep space._ “Just start slowly. Please.”

“Well, if you’re sure. But make sure to grab on to the surfboard, and don’t let go. It can be hard to balance.”

“Thanks for the warning.” Once 626 had a death-grip on the board with all four arms, they took off.

Nani started off small, taking him over gentle humps and declines in the water. Each time his heart leapt up into his throat. Eventually she started making her way towards the bigger ones, the waves that she called the _real_ ones. The object, she explained, was to ride them down the middle as they zoomed towards the shore. The first wave that they happened across was, in 626’s opinion, way too massive, but nevertheless she charged right in.

The crest of the wave crashed to their right, making a tunnel. 626 gripped the surfboard as hard as he could without destroying it, trying not to panic as they picked up speed. What they were doing was terrifying, insane, certain to end in a watery death…

…and obscenely exhilarating. _This really IS like flying!_ Suddenly, as the surfboard zipped forwards through the wave 626 realized that he wasn’t afraid anymore. Rather, he felt just like he did during his escape from Jumba’s lab. He felt _free_ , strange as it sounded, and each wave Nani took him through made him feel more and more alive until before he knew it he wasn’t gripping the board at all but standing, _standing_ , completely unafraid of the water below him and cheering on the ride.

They pulled ashore for a dinner on the beach, after which Nani and Lilo dashed back to the surf for some swimming. 626 opted instead to stay up on the beach blanket, along with David.

“So you’re from outer space?” The Earthling had a curious look on his face.

“Yep.” 626 had decided that he would keep everything retracted whilst on shore in case anyone happened to see them, but he opted to display his antennae for a moment. “Sorry if it’s strange.”

“Not at all. Actually, I wanted to know – how’s the surfing? I hear it’s choice.”

“I wouldn’t know.” 626 looked up at David, amused. “How would you hear that, anyways?”

“Ehh, we get tourists every now and again. One guy I met a while ago spoke of an entire beach planet.”

626 thought he knew which one he was talking about. “Was it Edis? That’s the biggest tourist trap in this half of the galaxy.” He looked back out at the sisters and sighed, contented. He flopped back on the blanket and closed his eyes, letting the sun’s rays beat down on him.

“You’re looking quite relaxed.”

“I haven’t had the chance to relax like this in a _long_ time.” Come to think of it, when _was_ the last time he’d been able to relax? He’d been going pretty much constantly since he’d been stationed on Gapra, that much was certain, put what about before then? _Even during the Academy days, I was always doing SOMETHING_. He’d never actually had a full day to himself, he realized. Even on ostensible days off, there was always some work to be done or some bigot to avoid. This was the first time that he’d been able to truly relax and not have a care in the world since, well, since he’d been created. He hoped that it wouldn’t end any time soon.

They went out surfing again as the sun set, him and David going together this time while Lilo remained on the beach eating ice cream. David was a more daring surfer than Nani was in his own way, going straight for the massive waves. This time 626 balanced on the back from the start, whooping and cheering as they careened through tunnels of water and over white caps. Every so often he looked over to where Nani was, and found himself amazed as she was transformed into a lithe, agile athlete spinning and flipping across the waves with a grace he’d be hard-pressed to match in flight. Every so often she jumped clean off the board and landed back on it after a spin, making it look as effortless as snapping her fingers.

626 looked up at David. “How long does it take to do _that?_ ”

“What, Nani’s tricks?” He laughed. “A while. She’s been at this since she was Lilo’s age, so she’s practically a pro.” David suddenly grew wistful. “Actually, she _is_ a pro. Or would be, if her and Lilo’s parents hadn’t…” He shook his head. “Never mind. Want to ride some more?”

626 smirked. “Did you set yourself on fire last night? Answer to that question’s the same as the one to yours.”

“It was just the stage!” David started pushing them off all the same.

They never made it to another wave, at least not intentionally

A large, black spacecraft blasted down from the sky, disturbing the waters to the extent that both 626 and David were hurled from the board. Frantically, 626 tried to paddle towards the surface, but it was no good and he sunk inexorably downwards. _No, no, no._

Then the surface began to draw closer, and 626 realized that David had grabbed him. They both broke into the fresh air and gasped. “What the _hell_ was that?” David asked.

“A spacecraft.” 626 tried to keep his voice level and failed. “We need to get to shore. _Now_. Where’s the surfboard?”

David swam to it and paddled to shore like his life hung in the balance. _It’s not HIS that’s at stake here_ , 626 thought. He looked up into the sky. _Where are you?_

Then the ship was there again, out of the foliage. For a second 626 thought that it was coming towards them, but as soon as it appeared it came to a stop. Right above Lilo.

_No. No, no, no, no._

A gun deployed.

Lilo looked up and screamed something 626 was unable to make out.

She started running.

The gun fired a net at the end of a retractable pole.

It enveloped her and pulled her into the spacecraft.

David and 626 pulled to shore. Nani wasn’t far behind.

The craft took off, too fast for 626 to do anything but read the name.

_Rodent’s Flight._

Hämsterviel had claimed another prize, and 626 had failed to protect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be hectic. That's all I'm going to say.  
> Also I'm vaguely curious if any of y'all actually DID look up 'petplay'...


	34. Chase

_Lahui Beach, 19:15 Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Tim_

626 sprinted through the forest, not caring who saw him or what they might have thought of a six-legged alien charging after a spaceship. Lilo was in danger – the time for subtlety was past. As he ran, the experiment directed all his brainpower towards a single goal: stopping Hämsterviel before he could claim another victim.

The first stage: keeping Hämsterviel out and about. If he made it back to his base, there was no way that 626 would be able to catch up in time to save Lilo. To do that, he had to be noticed. Somehow.

626 burst out of the trees and into the middle of town, where he immediately found his solution: a vehicle that looked like a cross between those tricycles he’d seen yesterday and the Milvucycle he’d ridden back at Gapra. He ran up to the owner.

“Your…vehicle…I…need…it.” He panted.

“Uhhhhh…” Apparently this girl wasn’t all that used to interacting with aliens.

“ _Please…_ I…need it…to save someone.”

She just gaped at him. “What ARE you?” She finally screamed.

626 tried to resist the urge to facepalm and failed. “Look…you know that…spaceship that just flew by? I’m trying…to catch it and I…need your vehicle.” All she did was gape some more, until 626 finally lost patience. After taking another half-second to regain his breath, he took on a far less patient tone. “Listen, lady. There’s currently a psychopathic gerbil flying across the island with a kidnapped six-year-old, and if I don’t stop him ASAP she’ll die. _So give me. The damn. Vehicle._ ”

Wordlessly, she held out the keys and stood aside. 626 grabbed them, said a half-sarcastic thank you, and shot off in the direction Hämsterviel had flown. Fortunately, the thing could _go_ : apparently the Earthling vehicles known as motorcycles could hit 225 miles per hour, faster than Hämsterviel’s craft was evidently able to go within low-earth-orbit, so he was able to catch up to him and overtake the ship within a minute of heading out. Then, within view of Hämsterviel’s cockpit, he did something somewhat stupid: 626 flipped into a handstand on his seat, gripping it with all four paws, and waved his butt in the air, silently hoping that there wasn’t anyone around to see the absurd sight of a soldier flashing his naked ass at a known terrorist. “YOO-HOO!” 626 yelled, just to compound the absurdity even further.

Be it the motorcycle suddenly appearing out of nowhere and slowing down, the shout, or the naked ass waving in the air, _something_ managed to catch Hämsterviel’s attention. From his blurry and upside-down vantage point 626 realized that the ship’s cannon had deployed and was about to fire. 626 flipped back into normal position, just barely avoiding launching the motorcycle off-road and down a gulch, and resumed driving, now with the added element of blaster fire to avoid. _Right: got his attention. Now what?_

The next stage was getting _up_ to the ship, something that would be a bit trickier to figure out how to do with a vehicle that couldn’t leave the ground. His best hope, he realized as they zoomed across the island, was to find a cliff and launch himself off it.

Although 626 wasn’t all that familiar with Kauai’i’s geography, the Lilo had owned an atlas of the islands that he’d flipped through the night before, and there was one location that seemed to work: if he took the road labeled ‘580’ as far as it went and took the trail leading straight on from it, eventually he’d come across an open area with a steep enough drop. Provided that he could get Hämsterviel to fly alongside him there, somehow.

With that in mind, 626 charged forwards. He passed multiple towns as they went across the island, neither stopping nor caring about pedestrians save the bare minimum needed to avoid crashing. Mercifully, law enforcement left him alone, reluctant to involve themselves in an affair involving a spaceship, and similarly the prospect of getting gunned down by an alien was probably what was keeping the roads mostly clear of traffic.A short time into the chase 626 managed to make the sharp turn onto 580, turning so fast that his entire left side nearly smacked into the pavement, and charged up as far as he could. He passed residential area after residential area, and finally the buildings began to give way to fields and trees. Hämsterviel broke off, presumably trying to go around and look for a place to ambush. 626 smiled; everything so far was going to plan.

_Keep on flying that way, buddy._ 626 slowed down as much as he dared as he crashed through the forest, wanting to risk neither going so slow as to lose track of his enemy nor going so fast as to deny himself the reaction time needed to prevent him wrapping around a tree. Regardless, soon afterwards 626 reached his destination, and almost the moment he emerged onto the cliff time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Hämsterviel’s ship appeared almost out of nowhere, cannon at the ready.

626 angled his motorcycle towards it as though he’d been expecting it in that very spot.

The plasma cannon fired.

Just ahead of its payload 626 managed to launch himself off the sheer cliff, ducking enough to keep himself safe.

The cockpit appeared below him, and 626 could see the white rodent glaring up at him.

626 dived off his motorcycle, sending it careening over the ship’s top and out of sight. 626 grabbed onto the glass, barely managing to avoid slipping.

Hämsterviel shouted something indecipherable through the glass, and began flying so erratically and spasmodically that 626 had to fight every second to keep himself from slipping off. Somehow, even with all the shaking and turning 626 managed to climb his way up and over towards the side of the ship, then worked his way downwards to the hatch Lilo had been taken through.

It was locked tight, far tighter than he could pry apart with the two paws he dared try with. “Blitznak!” 626 couldn’t believe it. All this way, thousands of feet up and above nothing but open ocean, and his way forwards was blocked beyond all ability to get there. Unless he could somehow break through into the cockpit, unlikely considering that windshield wipers were a thing, he was stuck. Eventually, land appeared below them again. 626 managed to register it for a microsecond before Hämsterviel sent the ship into a wild corkscrew broken up every so often with sudden drops and ascends, completely determined to shake his unwanted passenger off.

An island or two later, he succeeded. 626 barely had time to think _Oh, for fuck’s sake_ before he was hurled to the ground. He screamed all the way down, colliding with the pavement fast enough to leave a dent.

Somehow, miraculously, he managed to stay alive without losing consciousness or even breaking any bones. He _felt_ like every bone in his body had shattered on impact, to be sure, but he was still intact. With a groan, he forced himself up and took in his new surroundings: apparently he was half a mile out from somewhere called ‘Hawai’i Volcanoes National Park’ if he was reading the letters Lilo’d taught him last night correctly, wherever _that_ was. _Great, now I know where I am, but how to get back up?_

As he was pondering, Hämsterviel flew overhead. He’d slowed down quite a bit, as if rubbing his untouchability in 626’s face, and the experiment could almost hear him gloating.

“No. I won’t give up.” 626 muttered to encourage himself. But the odds were not in his favor: this was his last chance to save Lilo, and he was stranded on the ground.

_Honking. I hear honking!_ 626 did realized that _something_ was coming down the road. Whether it was something he could use or not, he had to know what it was, so he turned and readied himself to intercept it.

His heart sank for a moment when he saw what it was: a massive tanker truck, far too large to maneuver. But then he read a notice on the front of the tank, a notice made with a single glorious word: _Flammable_.

It was a long-shot, but if it was flammable _enough_ …

626 immediately formulated a new plan, one even crazier than ‘hurl yourself off a cliff and hope for the best’, but if he played his cards right he might have a chance to save Lilo yet.

That, or either fall into an active volcano or careen clear off the island. Still, it was his only option.

626’s legs were still in agony after his landing, but by some font of determination he managed to force them down sturdily enough to stop the truck clear in its tracks. When the driver came out to check what was going on the experiment leveled him with a punch to the face before pushing him off the road and hopping into the truck’s driver seat. Then, to get Hämsterviel’s attention, he slammed on the horn as hard as he could. It blared to life, louder than 626 would have imagined, and once again his attention-getter worked. This time, though, Hämsterviel appeared to be more curious than anything, or maybe he, too, figured out what the tanker was and didn’t want to risk an explosion.

If that was the case, however, he was soon to be sorely disappointed. 626 gunned the engine forwards, driving it up the mountain in search of what he needed. Thankfully, he soon found a massive pit of lava barred only by a flimsy little fence that he promptly disregarded. The truck plunged headfirst into the lava, sinking almost immediately, and 626 clambered out onto the tanker. He looked up in the air: Hämsterviel hovered above him, wide open. _Perfect_.

626 only had one shot at this, and his angle and trajectory had to be _perfect_. Any mistakes, and it was all over.

He took a deep breath and plunged his claws into the metal tanker. Whatever material they used was thin enough that he was able to tear off a good chunk of it, sending the fluid trapped inside pouring out.

The explosion that happened next soon became the stuff of local legend, both for the sheer unexpectedness and the sound of someone yelling “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHOOOOOOO!” at the top of their lungs as they shot upwards like a rocket.

626 had aimed perfectly, and he crashed through the glass with a great _crunch_. Then, adrenaline pumping, he leapt to his feet and whirled towards the pilot’s chair.

Hämsterviel slammed on the autopilot and turned to face him. “I see I have underestimated you, 626. Perhaps Leroy’s failure was not so terribly embarrassing as I’d thought.”

“Where _is_ your pet?” 626 asked. “I’d thought he’d be here with you.”

Hämsterviel snorted. “Leroy? Oh, no no no no. This is my operation, and mine alone. Although it might be a cleverly brilliant idea to bring him in and test his instincts against –”

626 knew where he was going with that. _No way in hell, Dr. Hämsterviel._ There was only one thing left to do: 626 vaulted at the rodent, slamming into him like a ton of bricks and delivering a swift uppercut to the face. Hämsterviel grunted and tried to get to his feet, but before he could get the chance 626 got him with a left hook. Before Hämsterviel knew it, the experiment had wrapped his hands around his throat and was holding him up in the air.

“Mercy!” He choked out. “You-you wouldn’t hurt an unarmed person, would you? You’re too much of a goody-six-paws for that, aren’t you?”

626 didn’t even dignify the plea with a response. Instead, he opted to simply spit in Hämsterviel’s face before dropping one hand to his stomach, grabbing a pawful of fur, and hurling him straight out of the spaceship.

Only after Hämsterviel’s screams had faded from hearing did 626 speak. “That’s right. I _am_ a goody-six-paws. But then, you’re a child murderer, so that doesn't really apply here.”

Without another word 626 hopped into the pilot seat, lowered the window cover, and re-programmed the autopilot to land him back on Kauai’i. He sighed and took deep breaths, calming himself and letting the adrenaline flow out of his system. Now it was time to see to Lilo.

She was still in the capsule, battered from all the twists and turns but still in one piece. When 626 opened the capsule up she climbed out of it, took a few shaky steps forwards, and collapsed into his arms, sobbing.

“Oh, thank you thank you _thank you_! The other alien he – he said he was going to _eat_ me!”

“Shhhh. It’s okay now. He’s gone and won’t ever be coming back. You’re safe, Lilo.”

Lilo sniffled. “I always thought alien abductions were cooler than this.”

***

Hämsterviel’s ship landed safely on the island, and soon after both Nani and Bubbles arrived. Nani immediately scooped her sister up into a tearful hug, while Bubbles explained to 626 that he had called the Federation and that some forces under Obrea and the Grand Councilwoman were soon _en route_.

Shortly after _that_ , 626 excused himself to the bathroom. All the erratic movements had finally caught up with his stomach, and he wanted to throw up in privacy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple stray thoughts:  
> -The first part of this chapter wound up being waaaaaay more reminiscent of Fate/Zero than I originally intended.  
> -When I wrote about the part with the truck and the volcano, it felt like a LOT more of a deus ex machina than it does in the movie, even though it's more or less the exact same there as it is here.  
> -Ever since I first conceived of these scene, I've always imagined Hämsterviel hitting the water at such a speed that he instantly liquefies and becomes nothing more than a reddish-brown spot on the waves. Said reddish-brown spot is promptly set upon by Tiger Sharks and erased from the ocean.  
> -On that note, I wonder what this chapter kills more thoroughly: Dr. Hämsterviel, or the suspension of disbelief? Personally I could go either way on that question.


	35. Saiccano

- _20:10, Hawai’i – Aleutian Standard Time_ -

By the time 626 lurched out of the bathroom the authorities had already begun the process of picking through Hämsterviel’s ship, and Bubbles had already booted up the ship’s central computer in the hopes of accessing information, which, judging by the curses and faint _bangs_ 626 heard as he staggered up to the cockpit wasn’t going well. Sure enough, when 626 entered the cabinet he found the man looking supremely irritated and kicking at the computer every few seconds.

“Damn Federation script.” He muttered. “Why can’t this thing have a frigging auto-translate or something?” He poked around a few more buttons and only managed to get the computer to say ‘hyperspace jump not possible on the ground’ for his trouble, which led to him slapping the machine and groaning rather irritably.

626 cleared his throat. “Would you, uh, like some help with that?”

Bubbles finally noticed that he wasn’t alone, but when he spoke again his teeth were still completely gritted. “Yes. If you wouldn’t mind. Maybe you can actually read the damn thing.”

626 shrugged and hopped into the pilot’s seat, pulling it forwards until he could comfortably reach the computer terminal. “So what is it I’m supposed to be looking for?”

“Anything. Hämsterviel’s flight history, location of his base, black box recordings, whatever you can find. Hell, we’d even be happy to get his social security number.”

“His what?”

“It’s a joke. Don’t worry about it.”

626 rolled his eyes and got to work. Thankfully the ship’s operating system was more or less the galactic standard, and everything was neatly ordered into nice, comprehensive files, as it had been back in Jumba’s lab. Honestly, it probably _was_ Jumba’s handiwork, now that he thought about it, seeing as him and Hämsterviel had been in cahoots. Regardless of if that was the case or not it made finding his way around the ship’s files easy enough, and after only a few minutes 626 managed to find some interesting things. Probably the most interesting of these was a photo gallery: for some reason, the ship had this feature where it recorded the surrounding terrain whenever it took off. Why it would have this he had no idea, save maybe to serve some purpose in identifying a home spaceport or something. It _was_ a big galaxy, after all.

626 sifted through the photos. Some were of locations he knew, like Jumba’s lab or Gapra III, but others were less familiar. Two of the latter group were especially prevalent: one showed a run-down and dirty landing pad on what looked like the slope of an active volcano, while the other showed a cliff running about a thousand feet above the ocean.

Bubbles hunched over the screen. “Are those Hämsterviel’s bases?”

“Probably. The one with the volcanoes is definitely somewhere in space, but I have no idea on what planet.” He squinted at the photos of the cliff. “I think these might actually be from somewhere around here. It _looks_ like similar, at least.”

“Well, if it is, it’s not somewhere I’ve seen.”

“Me neither.” 626 frowned and thought a moment. “Is Nani still here?”

“Should be.” Bubbles raised his eyebrows. “Think she might know?”

626 shrugged. “Can’t hurt to ask.” He popped his head back outside in order to look for Nani. When he found her, she still had a death-grip on Lilo, but hopefully he could pry her away for a moment or two. “HEY! NANI!” He shouted.

She looked over at him, startled. “Is everything alright?” She asked.

“Can I borrow you for a second? There’s a place in the ship’s logs that we can’t recognize, and we’re wondering if you can help us.”

“Are you sure? I haven’t exactly let the islands.”

“Bubbles and I are pretty sure it’s somewhere around here.”

“Well…” Nani mulled it over. “Fine. I’ll do it.” She gave Lilo another quick squeeze. “Don’t. Go. _Anywhere_.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Satisfied, Nani stood up and walked over to the ship. 626 led her into the cabin and pointed out the computer. “It’s the pictures with the cliffs. They look like the areas around here, but we don’t have any specifics.”

She bent over and examined them. “Huh.” She exclaimed. “That’s actually not very far from Kauai’i.”

“You know where it is, Nani?” Bubbles leaned in.

“Yeah, actually. I’m pretty sure that’s Mount Pani’au. It’s the highest point on the island of Ni’ihau.” Nani shook her head and smiled. “You know, I always wanted to go there.”

“Well, nothing’s stopping you.” 626 chimed in. “And if any of Hämsterviel’s kidnap victims happen to still be alive there having someone along besides a rather intimidating adult male might help calm them down.” He glanced up at Bubbles. “Uh, no offense, sir. You’re just a little…” He wasn’t sure how to find the right words. Bubbles just stared at him from behind his sunglasses, so 626 let the matter drop.

“You’re right.” Nani shrugged. “As long as you don’t mind taking Lilo with us. I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

It was settled then, and all those present promptly squeezed aboard the ship while Nani remained in the cockpit in order to give 626 directions. They arrived at their destination in short order, and after a few minutes’ searching Bubbles managed to locate the telltale seams in the rock that disguised the entrance to Hämsterviel’s base. Then it was just a matter of sending out the right signal to open the doors and roll out the welcome mat, and once that was out of the way the ship landed without issue.

Everything was dark inside the cave, and once the doors closed the ship’s headlights were the only thing piercing the blackness. 626 gazed out into the dusty gloom. “It looks deserted.” Apparently Hämsterviel had been running a one-gerbil operation. Nevertheless, the possibility remained that there were some sort of defenses engaged, not to mention the slight possibility of Leroy, so when they disembarked to explore it was in a standard defensive formation. 626, the most durable of the group and the most familiar with intergalactic technology, took point.

Almost the moment he stepped outside of the ship, his nose curled up as he smelled some sort of tangy, metallic smell. Whatever it was, it smelt vaguely familiar…

He edged forwards into the darkness. As he went the smell got stronger, and stronger, until he could pinpoint exactly where it was coming from. And, more importantly, what it was.

“Is that _blood_?” Nani asked when the smell hit her too.

626’s throat tightened. “I think so.”

They hurried towards the source as Bubbles flicked on his flashlight. Reaching the back of the cave tunnel, he waved it around. He could see the bars of a cage set away from the wall, a secured observation area, and a computer.

Inside the cage was a body. “Nani?” Bubbles fought to keep the disgust and grief out of his voice. “Don’t let Lilo see.” He walked up to the cave and kneeled down, examining corpse. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered. “It’s like some sort of…beast did this.”

626 assumed that ‘Jesus Christ’ was some sort of expletive along the lines of ‘Blitznak’, considering that that was what he said when he took a closer look as well. The young girl had been ripped apart by the looks of it, her chest completely torn open and her throat crushed. When Bubbles shined his flashlight along the edges of the chest, 626 noticed the teeth marks. “By the Gods. He _ate_ her.” Whether it was from the horror of the state of the body or the overpowering stench, he felt like he was going to vomit again.

Bubbles went beyond merely feeling like it. After he was finished retching and when the cave smelt of sick just as much as blood (which was almost an improvement, in 626’s eyes), he turned to the experiment.

“Do you know what did this?”

“Not for certain, but I have an idea.” 626 forced himself to look away and walk over to the computer. Fortunately it still had power, so 626 was able to access it. The first thing he noticed was a logbook, which he clicked on and pulled up the entry entitled _test number 3._

**LOG ENTRY: 25**

**DATE: 9-14-3623**

**EXPOSED LEROY TO A THIRD VICTIM. THIS TIME THERE WAS NO HESITATION; HIS KILLING OF HIS TARGET WAS BEAUTIFULLY VIOLENT – IN TRUTH, PERHAPS A BIT _TOO_ VIOLENT. EATING VICTIMS MAY BE A BIT TOO NASTY EVEN FOR ME.**

**NEVERTHELESS, IT IS CLEARLY CLEAR THAT THE BLOODWRATH PARADIGM HAS TAKEN HOLD, AND LEROY SEEMS TO COMPLETELY ENJOY DESTRUCTION AND DEATH. JUMBA WILL BE VERY HAPPY, AS AM I.**

**THAT REMINDS ME – I NEED TO WRITE HIM A MESSAGE ASKING ABOUT LEROY’S POST-ACTION CONDUCT. THE POSSIBILITY REMAINS, HOWEVER SLIGHT, THAT HE MAY FEEL SOME REMORSE ONCE THE ADRENALINE RUSH CLEARS.**

**ONE MORE TEST OUGHT TO BE ENOUGH. I SHALL HEAD OUT TWO DAYS FROM NOW TO PROCURE ANOTHER TARGET.**

**P.S.: SENSORS PICKED UP ANOTHER SPACECRAFT HEADING FOR THE ISLANDS. IT MAY BE THE GALACTIC ALLIANCE! I MUST BE CAUTIOUSLY METICULOUS ABOUT COVERING MY TRACKS FROM NOW ON!**

626 turned to computer back off and started shaking. “So it was him.” His voice was hoarse. “It was Leroy.”

“Leroy?”

626 looked at Bubbles. “Did the Grand Councilwoman tell you anything about Hämsterviel and Jumba’s genetic experimentation?”

“Nothing besides that they had created a sentient life-form, which I’m guessing is you.” He scratched his head. “Was there another one?”

626 nodded. “There is. Leroy. He was just created a little while ago. He’s basically a do-over – he’s got all the same abilities as I do, but this time they actually managed to create a life-form and engineer it to be as destructive as they want.” Truth be told, a part of him was really surprised. After all, when he’d fought Leroy, the other experiment hadn’t been able to kill Obrea even when it had him dead to rights and a gun to his face, and 626 had sensed that it was conflicted.

Evidently, though, that was no longer the case if Leroy had taken up cannibalism of its own accord. Whatever Hämsterviel and Jumba had done to their experiment, the whatever had caused it to hesitate on the _World Ravager_ was probably no longer there. _It’s that damned Bloodwrath Paradigm. If the Federation hadn’t started up that program, then Leroy wouldn’t…_

_Of course, if I didn’t exist in the first place, there wouldn’t have been any impetus for the program in the first place._

He gave a tiny shake of his head. _No. You’ve got bigger fish to fry then feeling guilt over something you have no control over_. He turned away from the cage and the computer both and started walking away.

“Where are you going?”

“To look around some more.” There was nothing to be gained by staring at the mangled corpse, but there could be something else in the lab that might prove more informative.

***

The search of Hämsterviel’s base took another five hours, by which time The Grand Councilwoman and Obrea were helpfully on hand to take stock of all the information. As the Federation Army did so, 626, Bubbles, Lilo, and Nani explained the situation.

“…so from what we can tell, Hämsterviel was using this island as a springboard to test out Leroy’s destructive programming and the effect of the Bloodwrath Paradigm.” 626 concluded. “My guess is that he figured that if Leroy could kill little girls he wouldn’t have any moral compunction about doing the same to soldiers.”

Nani hugged Lilo tighter. “Then Lilo was nearly…” She couldn’t even say it. “I guess I really can’t thank you enough, then.”

“And what of Dr. Hämsterviel?” The Councilwoman asked.

“Presumed dead.”

“Only presumed?”

“Well, milady, considering that he hit the surface of the ocean at terminal velocity after falling a good thousand feet, I’m pretty sure he didn’t walk out of it alive.”

Apparently, that satisfied her, because she let the matter rest.

“And Jumba?” Obrea asked. “Any sign of him?”

626 shook his head.

Bubbles shifted in his seat. “The only items that may pertain to him are some of the log entries Hämsterviel created. They gave the impression that Dr. Jumba’s hiding out with some mutual allies of theirs.” He produced a data pad containing some of the images 626 had obtained showing the volcanic planet. “From what Airman 626 was able to discern, they are hiding out on this planet.”

The Councilwoman took the data pad, looked the pictures over, and handed it to Obrea. After he was finished the two exchanged a significant look.

Bubbles raised his eyebrows. “I take it this place is known to both of you?”

Obrea answered him. “Well, not certainly, but there aren’t all that many planets that are both inhabited enough to host that sort of landing platform and still that volcanic. We’ve also received reports from our spies that suggest a large number of crafts and weapons tied to the Jitos syndicate have been on the move towards a planet of that nature.”

626 gave a start. “Jitos? Weren’t they the ones that attacked Gapra?”

“Exactly. So, between that and those photos, it’s fairly clear that Dr. Jookiba, Leeroy, and the Jitos Syndicate are located on one planet: Saiccano.”

“Captain Gantu is already _en route_ as we speak, along with the better portion of the Galactic Armada.” The Councilwoman’s voice was grim. “I intend to make an end of this before it can continue to get out of hand.” She stood up. “Colonel Obrea, Airman 626, be ready to disembark tomorrow morning.”

She made to leave, but when she got to the doorway the Councilwoman stopped and turned back to address 626. “One more thing: your exploits this afternoon almost defy explanation. You showed real courage and initiative rescuing young Pelekai and defeating Dr. Hämsterviel.” She favored him with a rare smile. “We’ll have to see about promoting you, I think.”

She walked off, leaving them all to gape. “Well, uh, congratulations, I suppose?” Nani ventured.

“Yeah…thanks.”

***

True to the Councilwoman’s word, they left bright and early after a last round of ice cream and some goodbye hugs between 626 and the Pelekais. It pained 626 a bit to leave them, he wasn’t going to lie, but duty called, and he was needed elsewhere.

Just as the Grand Councilwoman’s ship began to begin the process of retracting the ramp in order to disembark, a small, brown girl ran out of the undergrowth and hopped up, barely making it in time for the doors to close.

Oblivious, 626 sat with Obrea on the bridge and tried to quash his nervousness about the oncoming battle. There was a sense of finality in the air, but whether that portended his own death, that of Jumba, or that of the entire Federation he was unsure.

All he could do would be grit himself for the oncoming battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we're reaching the beginning of the end now. Ten more chapters.  
> This one's quite a bit heavier than the average chapter, and it owes its length to the simple fact that it needs to be the one getting most of the pieces in place; there's a lot of ground to cover, and not much space to do it.  
> I also want to take the moment to once again thank all y'all, not just for coming back week on week but also for the fact that there's one bit towards the end of this chapter, one tiny, innocuous yet highly important bit, that came about because of y'all. So, it is not an exaggeration to say that y'all will be responsible for a significant element of the final arc to come.


	36. Durgon Redux

- _G.A.C. Durgon, 15:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

It was the largest gathering of forces assembled by the Galactic Armada in twenty years. Even though the units assigned to the Saiccano campaign were only a fraction of the Federation’s entire military, there were still something like one million soldiers from the multiple branches in orbit over the volcanic planet. It had taken them a good two months to get everybody in place, a period that 626 had _expected_ would be spent getting acquainted with the responsibilities given to a Senior Airman.

Had _expected_.

The two months that he had intended to use cultivating leadership skills and the like had been completely derailed the very first day in, when two hours into the hyperspace jump the experiment had detected a repeated and very loud banging noise from the air ducts. He’d investigated, plasma cannons drawn, and had managed to locate the vent form which the bangs were emanating just in time for a foot to kick the grate out of place and onto the floor.

A foot that had become a bit familiar over the past day or so.

Her age, and the fact that the Grand Councilwoman was still in earshot, had been the only thing that had kept Lilo Pelekai’s sudden appearance from warranting a reaction stronger than “what in _space_ are you doing here?” From experiment 626.

Lilo’s only response, the only justification she had given for sneaking aboard a spaceship intending to head towards an active war zone, was to sheepishly say “I wanted to help!”

“How…”

“The other you! Leroy!” Lilo’s hands had gone directly to their hips. “From what you said it kinda seemed like he was being forced to be bad by someone evil. I’m gonna save him!”

There had been no talking her out of it, not from 626, not from Obrea, not even from the Grand Councilwoman. So the only recourse had been to take her along for the ride, at least until 626 and the rest of the soldiers disembarked, and she could be brought back home. An hour after _that_ , he found her in _another_ vent aboard the Durgon, still determined to sneak along.

“Lilo,” he’d explained as patiently as he could, “You do know we’re headed into a war zone, right? It’s dangerous, just as much as when you were kidnapped, if not more so.”

Lilo had just smiled, shook her head, and said “it’s alright. Nani’s shown me enough _Star Wars_ that I know what alien battles are like, and I promise I’ll stay out of trouble until I see the other you.”

He had just sighed, made her pinky-swear promise on that front, and begun the process of introducing her to his comrades and apologizing profusely for the little stowaway. Adon and Captain Gantu had been livid and would have probably chucked her out in an escape pod had they not been in hyperspace, Obrea had been horrified but reluctantly agreed to watch out for her, practically everyone else had begun shooting 626 constant death glares, and Spon had (naturally, now that 626 thought about it) managed to swallow his initial shock well enough to almost immediately hit it off with Lilo. That had been the start of two months spent babysitting someone who was technically about double his age while simultaneously preparing for the bloodshed that was about to ensue.

Thankfully, two days ago the last stragglers had arrived, and so it was time for the briefing. All those aboard the _Durgon_ crowded into the ship’s massive audience chamber while those who had come in with other ships huddled around their screens as Gantu projected a map of the planet on the room’s immense screen.

“Our goal is to stamp out these criminals root and stem. Once this day is done, all those on that planet who threaten the peace and stability we fight for will have been brought to justice.” He dropped his voice to a low growl. “One way or another.” A _click_ on the remote brought up a series of mugshots. “These are our targets. Memorize their names and faces, for they will be our highest priority. They are Alci Spec, Director of the Jitos criminal syndicate; Prohon Ernst, leader of the Tercan group; and, finally, Jumba Jookiba, escaped bioterrorist and criminal. Our orders are to bring them alive, if possible.”

Their mugshots went away, replaced with real-time footage of Saiccano’s Thermosphere, in which all gathered could see the fleet of their enemy slowly maneuvering into position above the planetary shield. “Our first order of business is to break through their defenses and get to the planet below. It will be a tall order – the shield cannot be penetrated by any firepower we possess, at least not without running the risk of causing significant damage to the planet below and all the civilian inhabitants. The shield is powered by a number of generators situated at key points all around the longitude and latitude of the planet and reinforced by a number of shieldships stationed below it. It is an impregnable defense.

“Almost. The shield still allows for radio waves to penetrate through planetside, a fact that we thought odd until one of the soldiers under Staff Sergeant Adon pointed out the fact that damaged ships need to be able to retreat behind the safety of the shield. And therein lies our strategy: whenever a ship attempts to retreat below the defenses, the shieldships open up a brief window of time during which it can pass through. During that time, we need to slip enough small crafts through to destroy them and weaken the shield enough for us to punch through with conventional weaponry. It will be risky, but our pilots have the skill, they have the tenacity, and they have the bravery to pull it off. And once the shield is down, we can land on the surface.

“From there, our next object is to clear the way for the landing parties. This will require small teams to eliminate the cannons.” Gantu smiled. “Just think of it as a more dramatic training sim. It’s similar enough to those.

“Finally, once the landing parties are down, we can take the castle. The battle will be hard, it will be long, and it will be brutal. But we _will_ win. We have the numbers. We have the training. We have _justice_. We will take the castle from the bottom upwards and will not stop until every one of these terrorists is defeated.” He saluted them all. “For the Federation!”

“ _For the Federation!_ ” One million voices shouted in response.

***

It was time for dinner, but no-one felt like eating, even if there was the significant possibility that this dinner would be their last dinner; they were all too nervous. Instead, in countless languages and in countless styles, each member of the Armada tried to make peace with the coming battle in their own way. For 626, that took the form of tracking down Spon and Lilo.

Spon was absentmindedly poking some meat when he noticed 626. The Amuan smiled and scooted over to make room between him and Lilo, and 626 happily took him up on the offer.

“Your friend here has just been telling me the story about how you met. I never would have imagined you to be the type to flash small children.”

626 gagged on what little food he was trying to force down and immediately blushed. “It’s not like I _wanted_ to run around a planet naked!”

“Still, just think of how _scandalized_ everyone must have been.” He turned to Lilo. “Seeing him naked must have been _horrible_.”

Lilo nodded, gravely. “I will never be able to unsee it, that’s for sure.”

“This from the girl who covers her wall with photos of fat tourists.” 626 grumbled.

Spon snickered. “Well, man, I’m glad you’re somehow safe after blowing yourself out of a volcano in your birthday suit. I’d’ve hated to lose you.”

“You still might, tomorrow.”

“I think it’s safe to say that _I’m_ in more danger than you are.”

“Not if things go south with the other me.”

“So you are going after him, then?” Spon looked him straight in the face. “All by yourself? Is that _really_ a good idea?”

626 nodded. “I need to. I’m the only one strong enough to match it if they’ve gotten him all pumped up and bloodthirsty

“I mean, yeah, if you go at it in a one-to-one fight, but –”

“Spon.” He held up his paw. “It _has_ to be me. One genetic abomination has to beat the other. Otherwise all the politicians back on Turo that still think I’m a monster won’t be satisfied. They’ll _still_ whisper that I avoided Leory, or went easy on it, or that we might have been working together.”

“So that’s it?” Spon’s voice hardened in anger. “You’re going to go off and be a one-man-show because of some bigoted idiots?”

“Spon, if I’m not the one to take Leroy down and prove that _yes_ , a life-form like me _can_ be a good person, then both me and any potential creations after me will always have the same uphill battle in their eyes. But if I can take it down, they’ll know that –”

Spon slammed all four arms down on the table, instantly silencing both 626 and everyone around them and causing Lilo to yelp and scooch herself a little farther over. “ _Damn it!_ ” He yelled. “Why do you _insist_ on trying to throw your life away? It won’t matter what you do – none of them will ever care! You can’t _make_ assholes like them care!”

“I have to try.”

“No. You don’t. You kriffing don’t.” Eyes wet, Spon stood up and turned away. “Instead of doing things for the people who don’t care and never will, try thinking about the people that actually _do_.” Without waiting for a response, he stalked off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, Lilo. Even in a Fanfic where she didn't even appear for the first two-thirds she still can't avoid seeking out trouble.


	37. The Last Night

- _G.A.C. Durgon, 21:00 Turo Standard Time_ -

Night fell. 626 sat with Lilo in their private room. “Are you really going to go after Leroy by yourself?” She asked him.

“If I get the shot. It’s like what I told Spon.”

“I’ll be with you, though!” Lilo pumped up her chest.

“You won’t. It’s too dangerous.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and squeezed. “It’s not like the movies. Innocents aren’t always safe, and the good guys don’t always win. Stay here. _Please_. For my sake, for your sister’s sake. Lilo, I know you want to help, but there’s no place for you on the battlefield.”

She went silent, falling asleep soon afterwards. 626 sat in his bed, too nervous to sleep.

And too guilty. Spon’s face kept coming back to him, the angry words repeating themselves in his head. He sighed. _Spon, I’m sorry. But this is something I have to do._ He knew it, deeply, almost instinctually: he needed to be the one to defeat Leroy.

Night fell. Obrea stood in front of a window and stared out at the stars, trying not to think about all those who might die tomorrow. _626, Private Jofford, Adon, me…_ Nights before battle were always hard, especially when someone close to him was in the thick of it. And knowing 626, he would be, taking the lead against the shieldships or trying to hunt down Leroy in some grand attempt to throw the other experiment down. _And I can’t do anything to keep him safe_. It was a horrible feeling.

Adon joined him shortly thereafter. “It’s a hell of a planet for a large-scale assault. Almost like it’s some fantasy story and we’re attacking the enemy lair.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Conversing required Obrea to actively engage his mind in something other than worrying about the possible casualties of tomorrow, and he wasn’t really up to that at the moment.”

Adon seemed to sense what was worrying him. “He’ll be fine, Colonel. Didn’t Dr. Jookiba make 626 almost indestructible?”

“Against normal weaponry, yes. But that… _thing_ … is just as strong as he is, and if they’ve got it in the sort of state they were trying to cultivate with the Aeterna, he might be even stronger.”

“Well, 626 completely kicked its ass last time they fought, didn’t he? Even if the other experiment’s a bit stronger he’s still got three years of training and experience.” She clapped him on the shoulder. “He’ll be fine.”

Obrea still wasn’t convinced. “Still, look after him, Adon. Please.”

“I will.” They stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity.

She broke it. “Claire.”

Obrea turned to her. “What?”

“I think we’ve been through enough shit that we can loosen the formalities a bit, Obrea. Call me Clair.” Obrea realized she was smiling, a warmer smile than he’d ever seen on her face.

“If you insist Ado – ah, Claire.” He smiled back. “In that case, call me Ellar.”

The two turned back to the stars.

Night fell. In the barracks, Spon tossed and turned, too furious and terrified to sleep. _Damn it, 626. Why do you always have to treat your life like it’s something you can just throw away?_ He’d thought that maybe the talk his friend had had with Melia aboard the _World Ravager_ might’ve at least tempered that a bit, but the moment he learned about 626’s insane stunts on Earth he’d realized that his hope had been a foolish one. 626, much as he might be moving on from his self-guilt, was still the same idiot with absolutely no preservation instinct.

_Well_ , he vowed, _if you can’t be bothered to safeguard your life, I’ll do it for you_. Spon raised a fist in front of his face and clenched it. _Come hell or high water, 626, I’ll see you through this battle._

Night fell. In a different part of the barracks, Airman Third Class Beforce Dixon stepped out of his shower. Paradoxically, as nervous as he was for the battle tomorrow, he was also somewhat excited. Somewhere, down on the planet below, was the abomination. To get the chance to fight it, to kill it, to _wipe out_ the aberration from the galaxy: Dixon had been hoping for the chance ever since he’d first heard about the beast and its actions during the battle of Gapra. Now, he’d get his chance.

Clothed in his uniform, Dixon walked back to his bunk. He looked around, taking in all his comrades in arms, wondering how many of them wouldn’t see the next sunset. _If you kill any of them, monster, I will pay you back in kind._ It was the least he could do.

His thoughts turned to the _other_ genetic abomination present. He had to admit, he was curious: would 626 stand with those who gave him a place in their galaxy, or with the creature also created by Dr. Jookiba? The possibility that 626 would be ungrateful enough to turn traitor worried him. _If he does, who knows how many of us will pay the price?_

There was no use thinking on it. Dixon clambered into his bunk, shut his eyes, and whispered a quiet prayer that the Gods above would protect everyone in the Armada and strike down Jumba’s monster.

Night fell. Up in the captain’s quarters, Gantu spoke with the Grand Councilwoman.

“All is ready for tomorrow’s assault, milady. I vow, one way or another, we will end it.”

“I hope your confidence is not misplaced, Captain. Spec and Jookiba have evaded us before, after all, and now we will be attacking them in a battlefield of their choosing. In that, they hold an advantage.”

“Well, yes, but we hold the advantage in numbers and morale. You have my word that we will crush them all and bring this struggle to an end.”

The Councilwoman’s voice grew stern. “Captain, you had better hope this struggle does not end in us sustaining unnecessary casualties.”

“It won’t. I promise you that.”

She visibly had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. “Well, I had best leave you to your rest. Good luck tomorrow, Captain. May you return home victorious.”

The communicator winked off. Gantu sighed and sat down on his bed. _She lacks faith in me_. It rankled a bit; Gantu really did have every intention of ensuring that they won the day without losing a single life more than was necessary. As Captain of the Galactic Armada he was responsible for all those present, and he would give every life the same value as that which he gave his own. More than he valued his own, in truth; while he was just one, they were one million. _Mark my words, Councilwoman. I will NOT sacrifice without need._

Gantu shut his eyes and tried to sleep. A minute passed. Then ten. Then thirty, and he still was unable to sleep. He got up and walked over to the little kitchenette attached to his room (one of the best perks of being Captain, he’d found, was the ability to make his own food) and decided to whip up a small broth.

A short while later he was back in bed, nursing a warm bowl of soup. The feeling as the warmth flooded his throat was comforting, almost homely, and it reminded him of why he fought to keep the galaxy peaceful: so that there would always be peace and homes.

Once the bowl was empty Gantu felt his eyelids drooping, and within minutes the great Captain drifted off to sleep.

- _Saiccano Volcanic Citadel, 21:00 Turo Standard Time-_

Night fell. Jumba slept in his bed. Or tried to, at least, but the thoughts kept chasing each-other around in his head. The Federation. The Armada. 626. Leroy. Dr. Hämsterviel. The Jitos. All the pieces that had led him to this point.

It was all the thrice-damned Council’s fault. Them and their slavish devotion to ‘peace’ while still financing the largest army in history, their belief in democracy and freedom while propping up any dictatorial regime that kissed up enough. Long ago, he’d decided that if the galaxy were to start moving and advancing again the Federation would need to be ripped up root and stem, and tomorrow would be – he sensed it, in his bones – his last chance to do so. If the Armada crushed them here, the galaxy would remain under Federation rule. If the Armada fell, the forces of chaos would be allowed to return and unshackle system after system from their current listlessness. Then there would be space for him and his creations both present and future to thrive.

His creations. 626 and Leroy, his successful failure and his uncertain success. He had to admit, whenever he thought about how he’d pushed them both to fulfil the role he set out for them, he felt a pang of guilt. They were the closest he’d ever had to children, yet here he had been, attempting to kill one and actively condoning the branwashing of the other.

Maybe, in another universe, things could have been different. Jumba imagined himself with his two experiments, not was weapons but as sons, spending their days in peace and quiet, maybe doing science here and there, maybe with Jumba taking a husband (there was this one-eyed noodle that Hämsterviel had said was the closest thing the Federation had to an Earth expert that Jumba had to admit he would probably have been attracted to under different circumstances), and with them all happy.

But it wasn’t to be. Tomorrow he and Leroy would march to battle on one side and 626 on the other. Most like they would meet, and one experiment would kill the other. The thought saddened Jumba.

_Is no helping it. Is for good of Galaxy_. By the end of tomorrow, with any luck, the battle would end with him and Leroy both alive and victorious, at which point Jumba would…what was next?

_To fix Leroy_ , he realized, _and undo damage Hämsterviel caused in him_. While it was true that Jumba _had_ wanted to increase Leroy’s bloodlust, what Hämsterviel had done had been beyond the pale. The results may have been all he could have hoped for, but even for Jumba the cost was too much.

_When this battle is over, I WILL make him better_.

Night fell. Night _had_ fallen, hadn’t it? The lights in Leroy’s cell had dimmed enough that it seemed like it, and it had been a few hours since one of the Jitos had brought it dinner.

Had the man been a bit slower, he would’ve been on the plate as well. It would have tasted delicious, the flesh of a Sorv, all that blood flowing down the experiment’s throat. It could almost taste it, hear the satisfying _crunch_ of the bones, smell the man’s innards…

_No. Nonononononono that’s wrong._

That voice again. Leroy growled. The one from _before_. The _weak_ him. The one master had hated.

_I thought you were GONE._ Leroy growled. _Master got rid of you so that I was worthy of his love. He ripped you out!_

Hmm…ripping…wouldn’t it be fun to try that on someone? To see their body snap in half like a twig?

_Don’t do it Don’t do it Don’t do it!_ The voice spoke. _Don’t kill! Be like HIM! Like the other one!_

_Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutup!_ Leroy replied in a panic. _If master hears you –_

_Master’s dead, dead! The other one killed him!_

_NO! LIES!_ Leroy had killed the woman who told it that lie, that master was dead and gone. He wasn’t. He _couldn’t_ be. He _wouldn’t_ have left his Leroy, would he? The one he loved?

_Unless I failed him again…_

_No. I never would fail master. Not sense I became strong. Since I discovered battle. Yes, yesyes. I will perform tomorrow for master! I will bathe in blood! In soldiers! In the other one!_ Leroy erupted into a mad laughter that silenced all the protests of the voice. _Kill! Kill! KILL!_ Its vision clouded over red as it imagined itself killing every single Federation soldier and personally ripping the other one apart limb-from-limb, and Leroy laughed all the harder, until it realized that it was crying.

_What? Tears? Me? NO! No tears! Master won’t like that, hewillnothewillnothewillnothewillnot I’m stronger than this I’m braver I’m more powerful I’m NOT WEAK! I’M NOT!_

The little voice whispered again. _Tears are good. The other one probably cries lots!_

_SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!_

Leroy flopped onto his bunk, writhing with a cavalcade of emotions: despair, loathing, anger, anticipation, bloodlust…

Night fell, and in private chambers, dormitories, bathrooms, prison cells, and observation decks across the planet and in space, everyone prepared, in their own way and as best they could, for tomorrow.

For decisive battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quoth Gandalf the White: "The Deep Breath Before the Plunge." The cliche pre-battle talk. Whatever you want to call it, I hope that this did a good job of laying out all the beats for the last few chapters.


	38. Above the Shield

- _G.A.C._ Durgon _, 5:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

The call came about as early as expected.

“ _All pilots are required to report to their squadrons immediately for battle! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is not a drill!_ ”

Hearing it, 626 wasted no time in throwing on his uniform and waking up Lilo.

She was quite groggy. “Huh? Whussat sound?”

“I have to go now and fight. Remember – _stay. here._ Don’t leave, for _anything_. _Promise me_.”

Still tired, she held up a finger. “Pinky swear.”

626 nodded. “Good. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you before the end of the day.” The experiment grabbed a protein bar and exited, sprinting as fast as he could, eating as he went.

As fortune would have it, when he had found out his assigned squadron a few days before, it had contained a few familiar faces: all of the other cadets he’d taken the combat test with back in the academy were present, along with a couple faces from Gapra, and, absurdly –

626 blinked. “ _Adon?_ ” What in _space_ was a Staff Sergeant doing in a flight squadron? And as a regular pilot, no less?

She smiled at him. “626. Congratulations on the promotion.” She noticed the confused look on his face. “There’s not much usage for a data analyst, so I thought it better to go somewhere that I won’t just be dead weight.” She nodded in a general upwards direction, towards the bridge. “Besides, this way I can make sure that none of the idiots above chuck your lives away. What’s your callsign?”

“Black Eight.”

“I’m Black Two. Melia’s black Ten.”

626 made to wake over to his craft, but before he could get far, he felt a tap on the shoulder.

It was Melia. “Nice to see you again.”

“You too. Think this’ll be a fairly clean victory like Gapra?”

“I hope so.” Her tone suggested _I highly doubt it._

626 changed the subject. “So, I see that a certain assface Raptrian is with us as well.” He gestured in the vague direction of Dixon, who was gamely pretending not to notice him. “Not sure that’s the best sign, personally.”

Melia sighed. “For God’s sake, 626, don’t start something.”

“I won’t if he doesn’t.”

She gave him a dirty look. “Stop. Just stop. You’re both adults, so act like it.” She turned back to her own craft, dismissing him.

626 shook his head, took a quick look over at his old rival, and hurried over.

Soon they were ready to take off. With one final klaxon the doors opened, and all the squadrons lifted off at once. When they were out in space, the twelve pilots of black squadron thumbed on their comms.

“Black One, standing by.” Their commander was, from the sound of it, an old man; 626 wondered if he was up to the task.

“Black Two, standing by.” Adon sounded, almost, at ease. _Wonder if she’s done this before._

“Black Three, standing by.”

“Black Four, standing by.” It was whichever of the two cadets during the combat test had pulled off that nigh-suicidal distraction for him.

“Black Five, standing by.”

“Black Six, standing by.”

“Black Seven, standing by.”

“Black Eight, standing by.” 626 took a breath to calm himself.

“Black Nine, standing by.” It was Dixon. 626 had to resist the urge to throw out some sort of comment. _See, Melia, I’m playing nice_.

“Black Ten, standing by.” Melia sounded just as focused as she had on Gapra.

“Black Eleven, standing by.” It was the other cadet.

“Black Twelve, standing by.” “Black Thirteen, standing by.” And on and on it went until all twenty pilots had called in.

Black One spoke again. “Roger. Command, all are present. Repeat, all are present. Moving to engage the enemy, over.”

“Copy that.” It was Gantu. “Godspeed, Black Squadron.”

They flew out in a V-formation alongside nine other squadrons, making their way towards Saiccano and the enemy fleet. Their target, Gantu had appraised them the night before, was the corvette known as the _Winter War_ , and a quick look made it clear that the ship was both heavily armed on its own and heavily guarded by other spaceships. Still, the Federation outnumbered the other ships by at least two-to-one, and with any luck these numbers would be enough to overwhelm their enemies.

As Black Squadron zipped forwards, so did the Jitos. 626 thought to himself, _engaging the enemy in three…two…one…_

Then space around him erupted in blasterfire and confusion began to seep its way into their battle order. _Keep formation,_ he prayed as explosions lit up in front of him, _keep formation_. If they broke now, their foes would swarm over them like ants and annihilate all the squadrons before they could even so much as fire a shot at the cruiser.

He fired a shot at one of the Jitos, sending the craft spiraling downwards towards the planet, and at the same time veered left in order to avoid a blast that would have sent _him_ down. There was another cruiser in his sights, 626 noticed, and it was facing away from him. 626 shot down that one as well. _Great. Two down, more than fifty to go. Still, if I can get two by myself, maybe if we act in concert we can -_

Another Federation craft streaked overhead, painted yellow, and was almost immediately shot from above, careening towards the planet while 626 frantically put on the brakes. _Ok, maybe not_.

Gantu stood up on the bridge and watched the battle unfold, issuing orders to his subordinates and hearing their reports in turn.

“Captain, we’ve some trouble with the first, second, and third sections.”

“What’s going on?”

“The squadrons in section one are facing stiffer resistance than anticipated. They’re fighting, but yellow and red squadrons are already decimated to the point that their majors are retreating.” Gatco turned to look at him. “Sir, they haven’t even reached the _Winter War_ yet. Even _if_ they break through, from how things are going they’ll be shot to pieces!”

_Blitznak_. Gantu made a fist. The ten squadrons contained a comparatively small amount of their overall force, but still. “How is section four holding?”

“They’ve pressed the enemy cruisers into a rout and are holding steady.”

“Good. Ombit, patch me through to Commodore Rikke.”

“Aye aye, sir.”

Soon the image of Commodore Rikke gazed at Gantu from the large viewscreen in front of him. “Captain? What’s going on?”

“Commodore, I need you to take as many squadrons as you can spare over to section one. They’re getting massacred over there.”

She nodded. “I’ll see who I can round up.”

Gantu turned his attention back to the battle, suddenly aware that a cold sweat was trickling down his back.

“I’m hit! I’m hit! Aiiiieeeeee!” One of the other cadets from training screamed as his fighter exploded. _Partrick_ , 626 remembered as he watched the debris scatter into space, _that was it. His name was Partrick._ Why did he only remember now, when the person in question was gone? _No time to think about that._ He spun to starboard. _Just survive!_

That was going to be a tall order. They’d had the advantage in numbers, true, but apparently their enemies had acquired ships that were both faster and carried a bigger punch, and although the Federation pilots were good their opponents were no slouches either.

Suddenly Melia was besides him, having shot a fighter coming directly for him that he had missed. 626 took a millisecond to glance over at his friend; she gazed forwards, hands on the steering yoke, jaw tight with concentration. For a fraction of a heartbeat she glanced back at him, then nodded upwards.

The two fighters immediately turned sixty-five degrees and shot upwards. 626 and Melia then snap-rolled back inwards and, once their nozzles pointed back at the confused mass of combatants, pushed back into the fray, guns blazing. Together they managed to punch a hole through the chaos, a hole which was quickly filled by a ship that looked to carry at least twice the firepower of a normal fighter –

– And which was almost immediately blasted out of existence by one of their rescuees. Having made her kill Adon swooped towards them, falling into place to 626’s port.

Suddenly, the radio crackled to life on the open frequency. “Friendlies incoming! Four squadrons!” It was Dixon.

626 looked around and spotted what the Raptrian had seen. It was help, alright. The four squadrons, each made up of twenty cruisers, swarmed in and immediately began working the outskirts of the battle. Someone on the comms gave a whoop of joy, and almost as one all the cruisers that could moved to join them.

Trapped in a pincer movement, the enemy squadrons gradually fell. Once it was over and there was nothing left between them and the battleship the comm flared to life once again.

“Alright, back to business! The _Winter War’s_ unguarded now, so let’s waste ‘er!” Black One had survived, it seemed, and 626 was amazed to note that he actually sounded younger, as though the battle had woken something in him.

The squadrons jetted forwards. Once the corvette opened fire 626 broke off the direct advance with the rest of his squadron, hoping to flank the ship alongside the remnants of Red Squadron, while others flew head-on in an attempt to distract the _Winter War_ and others flanked from the opposite side. The ruse worked, and Black Squadron was able to rake the side of the corvette in blasterfire unmolested.

Still, the ship refused to budge, even after the squadrons on either side finished their flanking run and met up behind it. _What are they, crazy?_

A great blast caught his attention: it was a turbolaser, and from the looks of it a fair few cruisers had gotten caught up in it from the front. The survivors scattered to portside, regrouping.

“Another run!” Black One commanded.

They made it back to the front, and then back to the back from there, with 626 narrowly managing to avoid a turbolaser blast that took out four of the remaining Red Squadron ships, but still the _Winter War_ refused to budge.

“The hell does it take to _sink_ this bastard?” Dixon shouted.

“Everyone, make for the stern!” 626 had no idea who _this_ voice was; probably one of the other squadron leaders. “Get the thrusters!”

“But we’ll be sitting ducks for a blast if they’ve got something back there back there!”

“We have to try! What we’re doing now’s going nowhere.”

So back they all shot, concentrating fire on the thrusters like no tomorrow. 626 realized, to his horror, that there _was_ in fact a massive laser back there.

And it was charging.

It was a race: take out it and the thrusters or die.

“Everyone, fire! _FIRE!_ ”

626 fired. He was sweating, from nervousness or from heat, or both. He swore he could _feel_ the heat from the turbolaser as it charged up, _feel_ the blaze that would soon engulf his craft if they didn’t shoot the corvette down.

At what seemed like the last second, they did. With a great scream the immense vehicle began to spin downwards, slowly, inexorably, as the thrusters sputtered out of existence and the laser discharged a meager payload into empty space.

In shock and almost numb, 626 thumbed the comm and paged the mothership of Section One.

“Major?” He asked the question casually, as though it was no different than asking what one’s favorite movie was. “What happens when a fifteen-hundred-foot ship hits a planetary shield?”

The voice on the other end was confused. “I…have no idea.”

“Well, we’re about to find out.”

The answer to that question, as it turned out, was a massive explosion that completely ripped the shield open, sending the support crafts scrambling to patch the hole while the entire Armada cheered as one.

626 looked around the battle. Of the twenty sections the Armada had sent into battle it looked like they were the fourth to accomplish their goal, with another five seeming to be well on their way to joining them. Elsewhere things seemed to be evenly matched, save Sections Two and Three, which were struggling almost as much as they had.

Melia spoke for all of them when she asked “alright, what now? We’ve gotten our ship down – should we go for the shield?”

“Negative.” The Major replied. “Move to aid Section Two. If we can blast their targets out of the sky as well, we stand a good chance of weakening the entire shield.”

“Roger.” All the squadron leaders replied before ordering everyone forwards. 626 gunned his engine and jetted forwards, grinning, morale high. Section Two looked to be along the lines of what they had just survived, only with a freighter instead of a corvette. For the second time that day, 626 thought _engaging the targets in three…two…one…_

The survivors of Section One fell on their opponents in a hail of blasterfire that completely the Jitos in two. Three-quarters of the pilots then swung around and took one half, while the last quarter moved to trap the other half between them and the pilots from Section Two. 626 blasted another two cruisers out of the sky for his part. _Wonder if this makes my a flying ace?_

After only a few minutes’ combat their enemies scattered and flew towards the center, leaving the Armada pilots to regroup.

“That was too easy.” Adon muttered over the comms. “I don’t like it.”

“Oh? Something the matter, Black Two?”

“You saw how they were picking us apart earlier, Black One. Yet here it’s like they fled the moment we pounced on them.”

“Maybe they just panicked?”

“Maybe, but you’d think that if they felt they were in any serious danger they’d at least try and call backup before completely giving up. So why would they…oh. _Oh._ ”

As Adon spoke a massive laser, bigger than anything 626 had ever seen before, arced out from the dreadnaught at the center of the opposing battle line. It sailed through space, cutting through friend and foe alike, until it reached its target: the _Durgon_.

“Oh, _kriffing hell._ ” Dixon swore.

The _Durgon_ realized it was under attack almost as soon as the laser had fired, that much was sure, and had moved to evade, but for a ship like that such a maneuver was nigh-on impossible to accomplish in the few seconds it had, although it was clear that whoever was steering the massive behemoth was putting in one hell of an effort. In the end they almost made it completely clear, but not quite, and the laser struck home, fast and hard, shearing off one of the fins on the bottom and instantly vaporizing a good tenth of the entire Armada.

All any of them could do was watch, powerless, as the great ship faltered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it starts. Place your guesses as to who ends up dying!


	39. Through the Shield

- _G.A.C. Durgon_ , _7:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

It had been an hour since 626 had left her, half that since the battle had started in earnest (at least, as far as she could tell by way of listening at the door), and just as she had promised Lilo had spent all that time waiting patiently for things to wind down and be safe again. No matter how much she wanted to explore an alien ship and see what it were like.

It wasn’t easy, staying put in the little room the commanders had reluctantly provided her and 626. There was just nothing to _do_ : sure, there was a computer terminal and a couple of books, but they were all in this weird language, and although the computer did respond to voice there wasn’t anything she could do with it besides stare blankly at the images and the weird letters. Thus, when suddenly the ship rocked so suddenly that Lilo was knocked from her feet, she was almost excited. Something was happening!

But then the lights flickered, winked out, and returned in a deep shade of blood-red. Lilo barely had time to stand back up before warning sirens exploded and practically burst her eardrums, shouting “EMERGENCY! EMERGENCY!” She clamped her hands over her ears, but it didn’t help; the sirens were so loud that it was as though someone was yelling at the top of their lungs right into them.

Lilo ran into the hallway, through the red and the noise, through the mass of aliens scrambling around the ship, trying not to cry. _Be brave be brave be brave…_ She _needed_ to be brave, otherwise she’d break down. Eventually, though, the unending cacophony of sirens and movement from the aliens around her was too much, and when Lilo found a dark corner in the hallway her legs gave out and she curled up into a little ball.

“ _Aloha ‘oe, aloha ‘oe,_

_E ke onaona noho i ka lipo_ …” Maybe singing the song Nani always sung for her when she had a nightmare or got hurt would help her feel safe, as if her big sister was actually there.

She wasn’t, but someone else was.

“Hey! Kid! Are you alright?” It was one of the aliens 626 introduced to her. _What was his name? Spon?_ Spon sounded right.

Spon bent down in front of Lilo, his face surprisingly soft. “Is it the sirens?”

Lilo nodded. “What’s going on?”

“Those bas-uh, the bad guys had a bigger laser than we would have figured. Pretty much caught us with our pants down, honestly. It sheered off one of the fins on the belly of this thing, so right now we’re trying to regain our balance. The ship’ll hold, but…” his voice trailed off. Spon shook his head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter now, I guess. Come on, we have to go – they’ve ordered us to abandon ship and make for the planet.” He pulled Lilo to her feet. “Stay with me.”

They ran through the hallways until they reached a hangar so large that Lilo was sure it could fit an entire volcano inside. Spon pulled her towards one of the troop ships in front of them, giving another alien a little nod as they entered. “Sorry for the delay-I found the little Earth girl in the hall and she didn’t know where to go, and I couldn’t just leave her.”

“Well, I suppose here is as safe as anywhere can be, not that that’s saying much.”

“Unless we get shot down.”

“Shut _up_ , Vis.” Spon hissed.

The doors closed, locking them in to the ship.

Things up on the deck had gotten a great deal more hectic, leaving Gantu no time to catch his breath as he shouted out command after command. The chief maintenance officer had reported in that, miraculously, save for the three that had been obliterated with the rest of the wing all of the _Durgon_ ’s engines were still on line. They were listing badly, and it would only get worse, but at least they would stay in space, and if things got too angular the officers in charge of the life support systems had been instructed to adjust the artificial gravity in compensation. The shields had also been moved entirely to the front of the ship in order to ward off further attacks, with defense of the rear entrusted to the ten-thousand surviving fighters.

Once the immediate concerns were taken care of, Gantu turned his attention to the next problem: what to do with their crippled ship.

“Ombit, what’s the status of our movement?”

“Very slow, sir.”

“Can we still retreat?”

“In theory, yes, but that could prove…difficult.”

Gantu frowned. “Difficult? How?”

“Well, sir, to put it bluntly, if you’ll pardon my language the _Durgon_ ’s going to be a bitch and a half to turn like this, and from how we’re facing going forwards to escape isn’t really an option.”

“So we’re stuck here, is that what you’re saying?”

“Well, not _exactly_ , but if we want to get moving again it’s going to take some time.”

“Time we don’t have.” He grunted and stared out the window. _Protect the Federation at all costs_. The vow he had taken upon enlisting echoed through his head. Without turning away from the window, Gantu addressed his First Officer again. “Ombit, what _would_ happen if we continued forwards.”

“We’d tilt, sir. Like crazy. The wing would wind up pointing straight down before long.”

_Good. That would give everyone in the hangar all the space they need to get out of the way._ “Gatco, Open a channel to the hangar.”

“Yes sir.”

“This is Captain Gantu speaking. I want all the transports to be ready to take off within the next five minutes.”

“Exuse me, sir, _what?_ ” A shocked voice on the other end replied.

“You heard me!” Gantu snapped. “Be ready to launch at _once!_ And once you do, I want you to _immediately_ turn towards your crafts to port and make towards the planet!”

“But sir!”

“DO IT, DAMN YOU!” Gantu yelled before turning back to Ombit and Gatco. “You two, slave all the _Durgon’s_ controls to the steering panel on my chair and tell the crew that they are to tie themselves down at once.”

They both stared at him. “Come again, Captain?” Gatco ventured.

“We’re about to do something that is both very brave and very stupid, and I want to have full control.” _Whether this succeeds or fails is all up to me._

“Well, ok, if you’re sure.” Uncertainly, they relayed the orders, and Gantu soon heard the _click_ denoting that full control of the _Durgon_ had been transferred to him.

The Captain of the Galactic Federation took a deep breath. “Ombit, Gatco, strap yourselves in. The moment I get confirmation that all the transports have launched, we’re doing it.”

The two bridge officers exchanged a look that said: _doing what?_ They had no idea.

Melia was the first to notice that something was off. “Are you all seeing this?” There was suddenly a mass of ships spewing out from the _Durgon_ and heading towards them, and almost the moment that the last of them disembarked from the hangar the great ship started to tilt heavily towards the side, the remaining wing pointing downwards like a knife. “What in space are they thinking?”

Before anyone could answer the comm roared to life. “This is Commodore Inaho. Make for the wing of the _Durgon_! Now!”

_Are they…_ 626 had a sickening feeling he knew what Gantu was thinking. “Everyone, we need to move fast. We’re not going to have much of a window.”

“A window for what? Commodore, sir, what’s going on?” Dixon sounded confused.

Inaho’s only response was to say, “Something they’ll speak of for decades to come.”

Sections One through Four dutifully jetted forwards as the _Durgon_ lurched towards the planet. Slowly, inexorably, the great ship approached the shield, and as it did the comms flared to life with a thousand shouts and a thousand questions, all some variant on the same question:

“ _What the hell is it doing?_ ”

Veterans on both sides of the battle would swear that things got deathly still, that all radio chatter ceased, all the guns went silent, and that all those present held their breath as one.

Then, with a sound that seemed to come from a demon as opposed to a ship, the wing of the _Durgon_ slammed into the planetary shield and cut a deep trough to the other side. The energy of the shield, displaced, arced upwards towards the ship, bathing its underside in lightning red as a star.

Inaho urged them forwards. “We need to move! We don’t have long!”

So, in the shadow of a ship covered in lightning, the Armada pressed downwards.

“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCKKKKK!” Ombit shouted as the _Durgon_ violently shook back and forth. The console in front of her snapped with red electricity, sending her back into the recess of her seat with a help. Next to her, Gatco was screaming his head off and clinging to his chair so hard that she was surprised the side hadn’t broken off.

Gantu sat in his chair, an island of calm in the middle of an electrical storm, the tenseness of the situation only evident in the rigidity of his jaw. He kept his hands on the controls, even when the electricity started arcing up through the seat and burning his palms, intent on his course. “Almost there!” He shouted above the din. “Ombit, Gatco, hang on just a bit longer!”

“HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO THAT?” Ombit yelled back. “THE CONSOLE’S ABOUT TO BLOW!”

It was, Gantu realized, and worse than she knew. “Get out of the way, both of you! I’m going to try and withdraw!” _Damn it, I’m not done, the hole needs to be bigger –_

Gantu slapped himself. _No. NO! I won’t throw Ombit and Gatco’s lives away. The Armada will have to make do with what they have._ He forced the _Durgon_ to start pulling up.

The consoles in front of his two officers bleeped one final warning and then went silent. “Huh?” Gatco stared at it quizzically. “What’s going on?”

Gradually the lightning faded from the cabin, leaving nothing behind but a vaguely burnt smell. “Did we do it?” Ombit asked.

For a heartbeat, it seemed like they had.

Then, from deep within the consoles, all three of them heard a low, echoing moan that gradually worked itself up into a high-pitched whine.

Gantu moved without thinking. He flung himself forwards and grabbed Ombit and Gatco’s chairs, and with a strength far beyond anything he had ever used before ripped them out from the floor and tossed them to the back of the bridge, the two officers collapsing into a heap. Then, as Gantu threw himself on top of it, the console exploded with fire and electricity.

Ombit’s ears were ringing as she got to her feet. She could barely see, she realized, from both the blinding flash of light in front of her and the blood trickling down from a wound on her forehead. “Captain, what in _the_ _blazes_ was –” She stopped talking almost as soon as she started.

Gantu stood hunched over the console, and as Ombit watched his immense legs buckled and he fell to his knees. Slowly, clearly in great pain, he turned to face them. “ _Go._ ” He whispered the word through the charred remnants of a mouth; from head to foot, the entire front of his body was covered in burns. “I…order…you. Abandon ship…now.”

Ombit, her body screaming in protest, pulled Gatco to his feet before looking at her captain and throwing a salute. “Aye aye, sir. Captain Gantu, it’s been an honor.”

Then, tears completely blinding her, Ombit left her Captain, Gatco trailing behind her.

Gantu watched them leave. Breathing was getting harder, he noticed, the breaths getting shallower and more labored. _Not yet. I still have things to do._ Gantu half-dragged himself back to his chair, turning on the intercom with one shaky hand and using the other to support himself on the other armrest. “This…is your captain speaking. Everyone…a-abandon ship at once. It has-has been…an honor…serving with a-all of you.” Without waiting for a reply he switched to a different channel and paged Commodore Rikke.

“Captain? What happened?” She sounded half frantic. “Are you alright?”

Gantu laughed, the action sending waves of pain down his spine. Within a few seconds the laughter dissolved into coughs. “Alright? No, I-I can’t say I am.”

“Is there anything I can do, sir?”

“Just…just this. Commodore Rikke, I...name you...commander of the Armada in my stead and...Acting Captain.” Gantu’s strength was failing him rapidly. “Lead…lead…lead where I no longer can. Farewell.”

His hand slid off the armrest, sending him crashing to the floor and silencing any reply Rikke might have tried to give.

The world around Gantu started to fade from focus as he turned to the stars. _See, Grand Councilwoman? The only life I’m throwing away is my own. Although, I suppose for you even THAT is one too many…_

They were halfway through the hole when Commodore Rikke called. “Sections One through Four, continue down to the planet and clear the way for the rest of us and for the ground troops.” Her voice was heavy with grief. “From now until we return to Turo, I have been given command of this operation.”

“What about Captain Gantu?” Someone protested.

“He gave his life so that we could push onwards.” Rikke spoke in almost a whisper. “We cannot let his sacrifice be in vain. We _must not_.”

Sections One through Four zoomed down with uniform purpose, their way blocked by little shieldships and stray fighters that were easy prey for their guns. “And this is for Gantu”. 626 muttered as he blasted a shieldship apart. Then the way forward was clear, and he continued downwards, towards the surface of the planet.

The _Durgon_ , power failing, jettisoned the last few escape pods and came to a stop above Saiccano, the great ship silenced.

Up on the bridge, the eyes of Captain Gantu reflected the light of the stars he had devoted his life to protecting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so passes Captain Gantu.


	40. Planetside

- _Jitos Syndicate Base, Saiccano, 7:40 Turo Standard Time-_

Jumba watched the _Durgon_ cleave through the shield and create an opening for several thousand Armada fighters to break through. “The Federation will be here soon.” He announced.

“Really?” Spec growled. “I hadn’t noticed.” She looked at one of her subordinates. “You. Tell me: how many of the anti-spacecraft guns are up and running?”

“Tw-two hundred, ma’am.”

“That won’t be enough, Alci.”

“You really are stating the obvious a lot today, aren’t you, Jumba?” Spec let out a sigh and reclined in her chair. “It might not be able to chase the bastards off, but it can still put a dent in their army.” She switched on the comms. “Gunners, to your posts at once and be prepared to fire. Focus on the larger ships as much as you can – those smaller ones can’t do much damage to a volcano. Compared everything else the Armada’s throwing at us, they’re just little gnats.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “That being said, if any of the little fighters get a bit too uppity or buzz around more than the others, feel free to take them out.”

Jumba watched her for a moment before returning his gaze to the battle. Like as not, one of those ‘little gnats’ was 626; Jumba wondered which one. _Where are you, my failed creation? How are you faring, now that your great battleship has been removed from playing board?_ Jumba turned and started to leave the command room.

“Hell are you going?” Spec called after him.

Jumba shrugged. “If battle on planet is starting soon, it will be time for Leroy to come out and play.”

The space around them thudded with laser blasts, shaking the transport from side-to-side, but so far they had been fortunate enough to escape any real damage: not that Spon expected that to last much longer, considering the frequency with which the viewports lit up and glowed bright yellow. He looked down at Lilo, whose hands were wrapped around his waist.

“How are you holding up?”

She was scared, that much was plain, but nevertheless she seemed a lot calmer than he would have expected as she glanced up at him. “I’m fine.” Another blast shook the transport, and Lilo winced. “But how much longer is this gonna go on for?”

“Until we make planetside. Then we’ll at least be out range of whatever’s responsible for all these explosions.”

“ _If_ we make planetside.” Someone added gloomily.

“We’ll make it.” Spon tried to give Lilo a confidence he wasn’t exactly feeling himself.

They continued downwards, through explosion after explosion, the transport shuddering all the while.

In the space around them, the Armada did battle with both the cannons and the agile Tercan crafts. “Why don’t these blasted things ever give up!” Someone shouted as a pair of Tercans followed them through evasive maneuver after evasive maneuver.

“Stay calm over there – I’ll help as soon as I can.” 626 gritted his teeth and fought to shake off his own pursuer. _Tricky little fellow, aren’t you? Maybe if I get a little distance, I can think_ Sure enough the enemy craft dropped back a little, but that was it, and he knew that the odds of him managing to outmaneuver them were rather low. _Unless I…_ He sped up a bit, hoping to entice his pursuer into doing the same, and then slowed down below his original speed. Then, hoping and praying that this would actually work, he pulled up. He yanked back the stick as far as it could go and slammed on the thrusters and was rewarded by pointing straight up and back and lifting ever so slightly above his original altitude, causing his pursuer to overshoot and pass under him. _Yes!_

Before they could react 626 immediately leveled out in order to take the shot, reducing his former pursuer to a ball fire in front of him. 626 looked around in order to spot whoever had just radioed, found them, and zoomed off to help. Four quick shots later, one of the Tercans plummeted to Saiccano and the other broke off to regroup. They never got the chance, for as 626 was moving to see if he could engage them an Armada cruiser blew them out of the sky.

The radio crackled to life. “Thanks, soldier. I owe ya a million. What’s your name?”

“Experiment 626.” He pulled up alongside the rescued pilot and threw him a salute. “Watch your back out there.”

“What’s got _you_ all cheesy all of a sudden?” Adon had been listening in, apparently. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t really matter all that much when we’ve got bigger fish to fry. You know those cannons they have? The ones that haven’t been focusing on us much?”

“Let me guess: they’re stopping the troop transports from descending and we need to get rid of them.”

“Exactly. Now c’mon – we’ve got work to do.”

Joined soon by Dixon – which caused 626 to have to forcibly suppress a groan – and three other pilots, they broke off from the cluster of dogfights and headed towards their new targets. As the highest ranking one present, Adon issued them their orders:

“You two in the green fighters – take that cannon to your starboard. Blue, I want you paired up with Black Nine, the one piloted by the Raptrian and take the one to port. Black Six, go with red and take the one ahead of us. I’ll get the one beyond that.”

“Roger, ma’am.” 626 and red disengaged from their formation as the others did the same and zoomed forwards. The cannon swiveled around to meet its new foes, forcing the two of them to pull up. As they did so, Adon flew overhead.

“We need to flank it.” Red announced as xe banked to avoid cannon fire. “You go right I go left?”

“Works for me.” The two dove back down, separating and each taking one side of their target. The cannon whirled around to face 626 in order to shoot him, realized its error and tried to compensate by spinning the other way –

\- and was promptly blasted with red’s guns as xir fighter flew forwards.

“Well, _that_ went swimmingly.” 626 took the chance to scan around; where once there had been four cannons, now there was only one, and from the look of things Adon was about to change that number to a zero. “What now?”

Red shrugged. “Wait for further orders?”

There was an explosion signifying that Adon had eliminated the last cannon, and shortly afterwards her voice came over the comms. “We’ve got the area cleared out, and others are doing the same with other groups of cannons. Now we need to escort the transports down to the surface.

***

The hallway turned dark red as Jumba ran towards Leroy’s containment unit. _Battle is not going well, I imagine._ By now the Federation had likely started the process of clearing the airspace for their own crafts to land, destroying all the cannons that they could without anything in their way but little fighters and Tercan ships. _I knew we shouldn’t have placed all our capital ships in high orbit._ If only Alci had listened to him and not been set on her own plan, this would not be happening, he was sure. _No sense crying over spilled milk, I suppose_. Once he unleashed Leroy, the Federation could send all the fools they wanted; it would just be more meat for his experiment. _Except for 626, perhaps_.

He reached Leroy’s cell and found his creation scrabbling around inside of it. Upon seeing Jumba Leroy immediately froze and turned to face him. “Gaba?” _What?_

“It is time, Leroy. I need you to fight and kill for good of galaxy. The Federation is invading, and you need to stop them.”

“Baaheth jihadi? Meega?” _Fight? Me?_ For half a second a look of horror and fear passed across Leroy’s face before the experiment shook its head as if to dispel a thought. A maniacal grin appeared soon after. “Ih! Meega nala queesta!” _Yes! I will destroy!_

Jumba opened the cell door and handed Leroy a pair of plasma blasters. Leroy slotted them in their holsters and bounded off, cackling it went. As it went down the hallway the experiment admonished itself.

_Don’t show weakness! Don’t! Don’t! KILL! You must! It is your purpose!_

_But the other…_

_SHUT UP!_

There was no time for weakness. Not now, not ever. The master had made that very clear. Even if it encountered the other one. _Especially_ if it encountered the other one.

The troop transport made it to the landing pad more or less unharmed, and 626 and Dixon landed alongside it. As the Federation soldiers poured out 626 decided to bite the bullet and talk to his former rival.

_But what in space can I possibly say?_ “It seems that they’ve landed without suffering any casualties.”

“I can see that.” Dixon grunted. “Can you see who’s in charge?”

626 craned his neck. “No, I can’t. Wait, actually, scratch that – it’s… _Obrea?_ ” _He’s down here?_

“You two know each other?”

“Yeah. He was the first person I ever met in the Federation, and since then he’s –”

“Spare me the details. I get it. Now are you going to gawk, or help the rest of us actually win this battle?” Dixon took off and returned to the fray.

626 took one more look at Obrea and sped off to join him. _You still have your own job to do_. That job, as he could have expected, was to escort another transport down to the surface. This time he was alongside red, who contacted him as soon as they formed up.

“Be careful with this transport.” Xe warned. “Adon said this one had the little civilian girl aboard.”

626’s heart leapt to his throat. “Lilo’s there?”

“That’s her name?”

“Yep.” _Damn it, of all the ships she had to choose one headed right for the surface._ “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Just don’t let it compromise your focus.”

“Roger that.”

The three ships flew down towards the surface relatively unmolested. The chosen landing site for the transport had been cleared of all potential obstacles, leaving a few stray fighters as the only potential trouble. A pair of them had already singled them out, 626 noticed, and he jetted forwards to go on the offensive. By now he knew the drill easily enough.

Except that with this pair, things went a bit differently: they advanced in parallel, as expected, but suddenly one of them stalled and pointed upwards while the other continued forwards. _Wait, what?_ 626 blinked in confusion before shaking his head. _Focus on that one later. Take the one going forwards first._

626 fired off a couple of shots, which the other pilot dodged by banking hard to their port. 626 mirrored their movement, turning his own fighter ninety degrees, and readied to unload another salvo. 

Without warning, the space above his tail erupted into laserfire. _Damn it!_ He’d forgotten the other pilot! 626 immediately broke off his pursuit and tried to level himself, but the shots kept coming, and now the other pilot had joined in. Shortly afterwards, 626 felt something he’d been dreading the entire battle: the shuddering _thud_ signifying a hit.

He looked at his computer and took stock of the damage. It had been just a grazing blow to starboard, but from the looks of it the engines over there had taken all of the abuse, and the experiment had no doubt that soon they would go offline.

He growled and shifted the stick upwards. He would have to land, but before he did he would pay his attackers back in kind. They had formed back up behind him, so 626 forced the starboard engines to do one last snap-back before they went offline. Then, before the other pilots could react, 626 fired, blasting one of them out to the sky and forcing the other to take evasive action.

The engines then started to fail, so 626 contacted red. “I took a hit. It’s not bad, but I’m going to be grounded. If possible, my intent is to land with the transport.”

“Understood.” Xe replied. “I’ll cover you best I can.”

The landing, if not exactly graceful, was at least better than the one back on Kaua’i, and 626 managed to bring his fighter down without even scratching much of the paint. Once he had landed 626 received his plasma guns, opened the hatch, and stepped out into the blazing heat.

The Armada transport touched down a minute or so later, and the soldiers inside wasted no time in exiting. Upon seeing 626 their commander leveled his own cannon at the experiment, who just sighed and raised his own paws in the air.

“Identify yourself!” The commander barked.

“Senior Airman Experiment 626. My fighter’s disabled, so it would be my pleasure to join you.”

“He _is_ fireproof, sir.” Someone added.

The commander lowered his weapon. “Very well. Welcome to the group.” He turned back to the soldiers and started shouting orders. “Secure the landing platform! Once the next transport lands we’re going in!”

As the soldiers continued filing out they immediately started taking up defensive positions, and as they did so 626 watched and waited for Lilo to appear. When she finally made her way out of the transport, she was in the company of a very familiar Amuan, who saw 626 and jogged over.

Spon opened his mouth, but 626 cut him off before he could speak. “ _Are you out of your kriffing mind?_ _This is a war zone!_ ”

“I couldn’t just leave her on the _Durgon!_ The thing was about to blow!”

“You could have gotten her to an escape pod!”

“There – wasn’t – time!”

“STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!” Lilo shouted at the top of her lungs, causing both Spon and 626 to shut up and stare at her. “Not the time!”

Chastened, the two stared at each other. “Just keep her safe, alright?” 626 looked his friend straight in the eye.

“We _both_ will.”

As they spoke the next transport came in for a landing. After all of its soldiers had disembarked the commander of Spon’s transport gave to order to advance. All the soldiers formed up, with 626, Lilo, and Spon in the rear, and began moving out.

“Got my six?” Spon asked.

“Always.” _You and Lilo both._ Come to think of it, maybe this was the best-case scenario: this way he could both keep an eye on Lilo and for Leroy.

Leroy watched the soldiers make their way across the landing pad. _Where is the other one? Is he here? Is he attacking?_ It scanned the front, scanned the sides, scanned the back. _Yes! I see him! In the back!_ Leroy laughed and jumped down.

“Stop right there!” Someone yelled. Leroy whirled around and came face-to-face with a man in a uniform slightly different from the ones the rest of his Armada friends wore. _A commando. Master warned me about them._

The commando continued to drone on. “In the name of the Federation, surrender yourself! I’ll give you until the count of three. One…two…”

Leroy hurled itself at the commando and knocked him on the ground, swatting his gun out of reach with one set of hands while ripping off his helmet with the other. With a cackle Leroy brought all four of his fists down on the soldier’s head, over and over and over, listening to the sweet wet sound as the commando’s face began to liquefy.

“No…please…mercy…” He begged after a dozen or so hits.

Leroy froze. _Mercy? Maybe I should…if he surrendered it would be good of me to…NO! NO MERCY! MASTER WILL BE ANGRY! KILL HIM!_

Leroy placed its arms around the commando’s neck and snapped it. His body fell to the ground, lifeless, as Leroy walked over to the discarded cannon and took a hold of it. It was strange: killing felt good, as Master had said it ought to, but at the same time Leroy had the slightest nagging feeling of guilt.

There was no time to dwell on that bit of weakness. He had a battle to fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really, really sorry for this coming out a day late. Getting these chapters done takes a bit longer now, since they're both larger and don't leave much room to maneuver as far as character actions.


	41. In the Base

- _Jitos Syndicate Base, Saiccano, 8:30 Turo Standard Time_ -

The hallway was boiling with the heat of plasma as they advanced, pausing every so often to exchange volleys with Federation soldiers. Snarling, Jumba dropped a pair of them with his own blaster before turning to face Alci Spec. “Well, great leader of Jitos Syndicate, I hope you have back up plan!” Now that the Federation dogs were busily taking over the landing pads at a speed far beyond what he could have imagined and were making their way through the base from at least five different entry points, the Kweltikwan was having severe regrets on his choice of allies.

Face covered in sweat and darkened from a glancing wound taken some five minutes back, Alci simply glared back and growled “shut up, Jookiba. Shut up and fight.”

“Fight?” Jumba snorted as he shot a charging Federation soldier clear through the chest. “ _That’s_ your plan? We fight, they kill us! Face it Alci – we’ve lost.”

“No. Not while I’m still alive.” She kicked the hallway wall. “Damn it! Their captain died, so why haven’t they given up?” It wasn’t like any of the fools she employed would bother themselves with doing the same if she were to get blasted to oblivion, she knew, which made the Federation’s continued drive all the stranger. “It doesn’t matter, I suppose. We need to escape.”

“Escape? How?” One of her men protested. “Madame, they’re capturing all of our ships! We’re as good as grounded!”

“No. There’s one hangar left. If we can get to my personal ship, there will be room enough for all of us?”

“But what about everyone else?” Someone asked.

“They can rot in the five hells for all I care.” Alci looked at her men, who seemed less than thrilled at the prospect of abandoning their comrades and had to resist the urge to hit someone. “Don’t just stand there, damn it! MOVE!”

They ran down the now-clear hallway another thirty yards before Alci’s second in command held up her hand and bid them to stop. “I’ve got an update from Level Eight. The Federation soldiers have completely secured the adjacent landing pad and routed all our forces there. And there’s something more – _it_ has been spotted leading the charge.”

“It? What in space are you referring to?”

“Jumba’s creation. His first one, I mean. Experiment 626.”

Alci and Jumba looked at each other, worried. If 626 was _here_ , just two levels below them…

“What about Leroy?” Jumba asked. “Has he been spotted?”

Alci’s second in command listened to the comm chatter a bit more. “I’m not sure. Wait a minute…yes. Apparently, he’s been camped out on Level Nine for the past twenty minutes.”

“We make for Level Nine, then.” Alci grunted. “We can’t risk running into the Federation’s monster without having ours to bring to bear.”

Jumba wanted to protest that 626 and Leroy weren’t monsters, as their group changed direction and started towards their last hope of surviving long enough to escape he decided to hold his tongue for once in his life.

***

An expert shot to the head took down the last remaining Jitos in their section of level eight, after which 626 holstered his weapon Glancing back at Lilo to see how she was doing he walked back to where Commander Aray stood. “The way’s clear, sir.”

“Good. Once Evri and Jij finish sealing the door behind us we can rest for a moment.” A few seconds later there was a _whirr_ and a rushing noise as the two completed that very task, at which point Aray gave their group five minutes to collect themselves before they pressed onwards.

Lilo had been given a set of noise-cancelling headphones cobbled together from various odds and ends strewn around the landing pad and in the transport, which she took off as 626 came over to her. “Is it over? Are we safe now?”

626 shook his head. “No. We’re just resting for a bit after all the excitement. How are you holding up?”

“Fine.” Actually, Lilo was more scared than she’d ever been before and doing her best to keep it from showing, but she didn’t want to worry any of them. “With you and Spon here I know that I’m safe.”

626 smiled at her. “You’re very brave, you know that? Your sister must be proud of you.”

Lilo had to laugh at that. “Only when I’m not driving her crazy, which I guess is probably most of the time. Except for Tuesdays and Bank Holidays.”

“Well, I’m sure she appreciates the break.” Spon had come over as well and kneeled down to Lilo’s level. “Although I’m pretty sure you’ve missed a few and Bank Holidays while you’re here.”

“Only two!” Lilo replied, a bit defensively.

Before either Spon or 626 could respond a massive bang sounded across the hallway. Everyone immediately tensed up and grabbed their weapons, turning towards the origin of the sound as the bangs continued to ring out.

“This is Commander Aray of the United Galactic Federation!” Aray shouted. “Cease this at once and surrender or we will use deadly force!”

“It’s just us, Commander.” The voice on the other end sounded highly irritated. “Would it kill you to be a bit less trigger-happy for once?”

“And just who is ‘us’?”

“Colonel Obrea. Open up, damn it!”

Aray complied somewhat reluctantly, popping the door open long enough for Obrea to enter with his own weary soldiers. Upon scanning the crowd and noticing the three of them, Obrea’s jaw dropped and he marched over to 626, Lilo and Spon.

“I know what you’re gonna say,” Spon hurried to get the first word in, “but know that it was either we bring her with us or leave her on the _Durgon_.”

“And you were okay with this?” Obrea looked squarely at Lilo, who nodded. “Well, if you insist. I’m sorry you had to get dragged into our fight, miss.”

“What’s the plan?” 626 asked.

Obrea shrugged. “Well, we intended to head up to level nine and capture everything up there. As for you all, that depends on what Commander Aray wants to do. Why are you fighting with the ground forces, by the way? Aren’t all the pilots supposed to be clearing the airspace?”

“I got shot down, and since I wasn’t going anywhere anyways, I wanted to be of some help.”

“He means he wants to track down and fight the other experiment mano-a-mano.” Spon interjected.

“On your own? Are you _nuts_?”

“Who else can fight him?” 626 protested. “No offense, but last time you tried that didn’t exactly go well.”

Before Obrea could respond Aray called him over to plan. “We’ll talk about this later.”

The two officers talked for a bit before concluding that it would be best to act together. “Alright, time’s up.” Aray’s voice carried across the entire hallway. “Colonel Obrea and I have decided that the best way to proceed would be for our two groups to move as one. With that in mind, we have a new goal: take Level Nine. Everyone, _move out!_ ”

They all started marching towards their new destination.

***

Jumba and Alci’s group emerged into the massive room at the center of Level Nine, in the middle of which sat a small, red-furred creature. “Leroy?” Jumba called out. “Is me; Jumba. Are you alright?”

“Ih.” _Yes._ Leroy stood up and faced them. “Tagga huaa allah?” _Where’s master?_

Jumba sighed. He’d explained to his creation that Dr. Hämsterviel was gone several times, but it never seemed to stick; the Kweltikwan half-suspected that Leroy felt that admitting its master was dead was some sort of cardinal sin. “Is not here. Only me and Miss Spec and her friends.”

“Aga ba yuuga chinti?” _Why are you here?_

“To find you, of course. We stand a better chance together and I wanted to keep you safe.”

“Meega?” _Me?_ Leroy looked like he didn’t believe it.

“Yes, you.”

“The hell is it saying?” Alci looked at the experiment suspiciously.

Jumba shot her a quick glare. “I am trying to persuade Leroy to help us. Hämsterviel damaged it, I am fearing, so we are needing to be patient and careful.”

“Just hurry it along, will you? We need to get moving again!”

Jumba resisted the urge to hit her and instead turned back to Leroy. “Come. I will take care of you.”

Slowly, Leroy began walking towards them. As it approached them Jumba noticed that its fur was covered in dried and drying blood and felt a surge of pride in his experiment. _For all that things are going to hell, at least I did manage to create a bioweapon after all._

The moment Leroy reached them, the massive doors on the other side of the room exploded and an octet of Federation soldiers rolled through the flames and debris. As the smoke cleared and the number of guns trained on the thirteen of them increased, everyone on Jumba’s side raised their own weapons.

The two leaders of the group, one of which looked rather like the Raptrian Leroy had run into back on Gapra, stepped to the front of their little army.

“I am Commander Nilo Aray of the United Galactic Federation.” The Commander spoke in the most imperious voice Jumba had ever heard. “This is Collonel Ellar Obrea. Your reign of terror is at an end, your army collapsing. Come quietly, and we will grant you a fair trial. Resist, and pay the price.”

_Always theatrical, these Federation types_. Jumba allowed himself to snort before turning to Alci. With a subtle swing of the claw she gestured upwards, and when Jumba glanced after her he noticed a large and somewhat loose pipe running from the ceiling. Judging from the color, and from the waves of heat that he could see even from fifty feet below, he surmised that it was a lava pipe. He looked back at Alci and smirked in understanding before addressing the Federation soldiers once more.

“You are generous to offer, but I am thinking that we will decline your offer.”

“Does he speak for all of you?” The Raptrain asked.

“He does.” Alci replied. “Far be it from the Jitos to surrender to a bunch of government stooges.”

“Very well, then.” The Commander’s voice was solemn. “Your lives are forfeit.”

“Perhaps, but perhaps not.” With a swing of her claw the leader of the Jitos bade her followers to fire upwards. Ten plasma bolts hit the lava tube dead center and burned straight through the metal, and within moments the room heated to an almost unbearable temperature as waterfalls of boiling red began to plummet to the floor. Without waiting for the lava to near them the thirteen turned and sprinted back the way they came, Jumba throwing one last look behind him in the hopes of seeing his first creation. 626 was nowhere to be seen.

They sprinted back through the hallway at top speed; there was no time to stop. Their trick with the lava had bought them a little time and cut off the fastest route by which the Federation soldiers could chase them, but there were plenty other paths around the level, and all it would take was a dozen soldiers to get lucky for their escape to get that much harder once again.

As it turned out, they weren’t found by a dozen soldiers.

As they reached a four-way intersection, the doors to their left and right opened and a good forty soldiers poured out from the sides, cutting off two avenues of escape.

“RUN!” Alci shouted as they opened fire. She and her men sprinted forwards while Jumba grabbed a snarling Leroy and followed after them, doing his best to return fire with one hand while holding his creation in the other. After he made it through the door Jumba blasted the controls, closing it and buying them another few seconds. He looked to see who else had made it; now it was just him, Leroy, Alci, and two others.

Obrea ran up to the door and slammed the control pad. Getting no response, he swore. “They’ve locked it. Damn it, this is going to slow us down again.”

“At least we killed most of them.” Someone suggested.

“True, but that experiment’s still alive. If he escapes unchecked, it’s going to be hell.”

“Maybe there’s another way forwards?” 626 had been studying the layout of the hallway as they ran. “If we hurry we might be able to intercept them from the front.”

“It could work.” 626 crossed to the right door and opened it. “626, Spon, with me. The rest of you, work on that door.”

The three of them started running down the hallway. They intercepted their quarry several hundred yards down, in what looked like a giant storage facility, when 626 spotted Jumba and the other four survivors working their way between the metal crates. “I see them!” He shouted.

Immediately the two remaining Jitos thugs dropped into a firing position as their leader ran for it. Their three opponents ducked behind the nearest metal crates and returned fire, and after a brief exchange Spon felled one and Obrea felled the other. Then, emerging from their hiding place, they and 626 took off after Jumba.

Missed by all the rest, Alci Spec slipped out a side door.

They caught up to Jumba and Leroy near an elevator leading to the next level. Upon seeing them Jumba tensed, picked up his creation, and threw it into the elevator before starting up the controls. He looked at his experiment, eyes full of regret, and turned back to face his opponents.

626 ran to a pipe and started climbing after Leroy, leaving Spon and Obrea facing Jumba down below.

“Last chance, Dr. Jookiba.” Obrea kept his weapon steady. “Surrender. End the fighting.”

“Give up? Of course not!” Jumba’s own gun was pointed square at the Raptrain’s chest. “I am not out of game yet.”

Spon started edging his way towards another elevator, but when Jumba noticed him the Kweltikwan swung his gun around. “Don’t even think about it, kid.”

From his side came the _click_ of Obrea’s safety. “Shoot him and I swear by all the Gods I’ll drop you before you can even start to turn back around.”

Relucantly, Jumba complied and turned to face the Colonel.

Spon ran over to the elevator, hesitating before getting on. “Are you sure?”

Obrea gave a little nod. “Go. Help 626.”

“I’ll look out for him.” The elevator doors closed behind him, and Spon started upwards.

626 ran down the catwalk as fast as he could in order to gain on Leroy. As the other experiment rounded a corner in front of him 626 took a deep breath. “Stop, Leroy.”

He heard the clink of claws on metal as Leroy halted and turned around.

The two experiments eyed each other from a distance. There was no need for words. Instead, with a bestial shout that reminded 626 horribly of the Aeterna, Leroy hurled itself through the air at its opponent, who leapt to meet him.

In the middle of the hallway, blue met red in midair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for how late this chapter has been. Things have been a bit hectic lately and I haven't had as much time for writing as I would like, and unfortunately that means that I'm now a week behind.


	42. Duel

- _Jitos Syndicate Base, Saiccano 8:45 Turo Standard Time_ -

By the time Spon exited the elevator 626 and Leroy had already melded into a writhing, red-blue mass on the catwalk in front of him, and before he could take so much as five steps forwards a kick sent 626 flying back into the wall behind him, forcing Spon to duck out of the way. 626 collided with the wall and grunted from the pain before dropping to the floor and launching himself back into it, not even noticing his friend.

Spon gaped as he stared at the wall. _There’s a dent! A friggin’ dent like a foot deep in the wall!_ Astonished, he looked back at the dueling experiments long enough to watch 626 tear a pipe out of the wall and swing it into Leroy like a bat. Leroy hopped to its feet upon landing, seemingly shrugging off a blow that would have shattered the ribs of any normal creature as though it was nothing but a slap, and charged back at its opponent. 626 promptly planted his feet onto the catwalk, flipped the pipe around in his paws, and when Leroy attempted another leap swung upwards with enough force to send Leroy in a graceful arc backwards.

_Damn, they’re strong._ Spon realized. As things stood, there really wasn’t any way he could intervene and help 626, at least not without getting torn apart himself. So, instead of trying, Spon took shelter behind a crate and began scanning the massive room. _At least if someone comes in I can spot them and shout a warning or something. I won’t be TOTALLY useless_.

A flash of movement got his eye – up in the left corner of the room, Spon noticed a door opening as someone crept into the room. Spon squinted to get a better look, wondering if it was that Alci Spec criminal or some other Jitos thug, and upon taking a closer look he noticed that the mysterious intruder appeared to be wearing an Armada flight suit. Spon caught a brief glimpse of reddish-skins and a tail, and then the other person vanished completely from sight.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen them somewhere before…

Jumba and Obrea continued to eye each other, neither moving their weapons and inch, but neither firing either. Everything, save for the sounds drifting down from the catwalk above and the occasional _hiss_ of a pipe, was silent.

Jumba broke that silence. “Is poetic, in own way: you, me, and 626 back together.” His grip tightened. “Just like when you were stopping me retrieving 626.”

“He did that all on his own.” Obrea smirked at the memory. “I was just there to make sure you went where you belong. _Now_ I’m the one stopping you from getting your mitts on him.” With a fractional tilt of his head Obrea nodded upwards as Leroy kicked 626 backwards. “One mad beast per idiot scientist, no?”

“You think I am _wanting_ Leroy to be like that? Was all fault of Hämsterviel and his torture! Yes, I wanted to augment Leroy’s destructive programming, yes, I wanted it to become the force for anarchy galaxy is needing, but not by like that.”

Obrea had to resist the urge to spit. “Forgive me if I don’t believe you. And besides, even if that’s true, the end result would still have been the same: blood being shed across the entire galaxy and a creature forced to take a path in life laid out for it without ever having the chance to choose otherwise.”

Jumba clicked his safety off. “You don’t understand, do you? You damned Federation dogs _never_ understand what the galaxy needs.”

“I suppose not.” Obrea raised his gun a fraction of an inch and fired, grazing Jumba’s shoulder and making the Kweltikwan wince backwards, and as he did so Obrea dove behind a shipping container.

The Colonel took a deep breath. The time for talk had officially passed. Time to get serious.

A gunshot rang out from below them. 626’s attention snapped away from Leroy as he looked to see what had happened, and to his relief he saw that it had been Obrea doing the shooting. 626 returned his attention to Leroy –

– just in time for the other experiment to yank the pipe out of his hand and throw it over the side of the catwalk. Snarling, Leroy advanced on the now-weaponless 626.

“You wanna do this again?” 626 growled. “Let’s do it!” This time 626 was the one to make the first move, charging Leroy before diving and making a low sweep that through it off-balance long enough for 626 to tackle it to the floor. Leroy made to throw 626 off of it but he was ready, and so rather than crashing against the wall 626 let himself ricochet off it back onto Leory’s stomach. The impact made the experiment gasp in pain, after which it shoved off the other experiment and retreated a few paces. Leroy spat out a bloody tooth, probed the whole with its tongue, and roared again.

_That’s it, buddy. Keep getting angrier_. From their very first exchange 626 had realized that the other experiment was stronger than he was, moving and attacking with a wild, monstrous strength that seemed almost unnatural even by the standards of a pair of genetically-engineered bioweapons.

Therein lied the single greatest obstacle to 626’s victory.

Therein also lied his single greatest advantage.

The thing about wild, monstrous strength: no _finesse_.

Boiled down to it, as devastatingly powerful as Leroy’s attacks were, they consisted of little more than simple punches, kicks, charges, and the occasional bite. Each was more than powerful enough to eliminate the average opponent but as someone who was both well-versed in Federation combat training and almost as powerful, 626 faced odds that were a bit more even.

Not perfectly even, 626 reminded himself as Leroy’s latest punch damn near wrenched his upper-right arm out of its socket, but certainly moreso than the average soldier.

626 responded to the punch by blocking the follow-up with one set of arms and using the other to twist Leroy’s wrist as far as he could. Leroy shrieked in pain and jumped back off of him, allowing 626 the opportunity to get to his feet.

Both experiments eyed each other warily. _That’s right. Keep coming._ To goad the other experiment into making another frenzied assault 626 forced a smile onto his face. Really? _This_ is your best? The gerbil was harder to take down, and I don’t even think Hämsterviel knew how to fight!”

Leroy, if it was possible, got even angrier. “ _Yuuga. No. Insult. Master._ ” It growled.

626 blinked. _Was that basic? I thought Leroy couldn’t speak it? When did he learn how to –_

_Ah._

It was learning. And if it could learn that, maybe it could also learn…

_Oh, blitznak_.

Leroy reached to its side and broke off a piece of the catwalk railing. Wielding it like a stave it advanced again, slowly this time, until suddenly it broke into a run and slammed its weapon into 626’s head, sending the other experiment down.

Eyes swimming as he looked up at Leroy, 626’s head felt like it was on fire. Leroy made for another swing but before it could 626 ripped off his own piece of the railway and held it up to block.

The impact sent shock waves down 626’s arms, but he managed to hold firm and parry before slamming the rail into Leroy’s chest.

Both experiments disengaged and withdrew a few paces, watching the other’s weapon.

626 shook his head to clear it and tried to ignore the throbbing sensation from between his antennae. _Okay. Now he’s a stave-fighter. Great._

Jumba massaged the burn mark; it wasn’t deep, thankfully, but the blast had still hurt. He looked forwards to paying back the Federation dog in kind, but maybe with an extra shot or two to the head.

First thing was first, though, and Jumba had to find him. He peeked out from his makeshift hiding place behind a bunch of crates and was greeted by an empty room. _Where did he go?_

Jumba sighed irritably. Of all the places to start playing hide-and-seek in, they just _had_ to be in a storage room. _Well, silver lining – if I am not seeing him anywhere, he is not seeing me._ Still, best to rectify things before the Federation dog rectified them for him. Jumba hazarded another glance out and found the spot that they had originally stood around. _Alrighty then. Now that I know where we WERE, where did he GO?_ Jumba had lost sight of him practically the moment the shot had landed, which implied that wherever the Federation dog was hiding had to be nearby that point.

He scanned the room again. There was a medium-sized container about ten feet or so away from their original location. _Perfect. I have found you._ Slowly, quietly and with his gun at the ready, Jumba crept out from his hiding place. Reaching the container he flattened himself against the side of it and prepared to attack.

Apparently the Federation Dog had had a similar idea, as just before Jumba could whirl around the corner the Raptrian hurled himself out from his own side. The two stared at each other in shock and Obrea tried to bring up his weapon mid-leap, but his aim was off and the shot glanced off the side of the container.

Jumba, who was similarly off-put by this sudden development, was only slightly more accurate and landed his shot on his opponent’s tail. The man audibly and visibly winced from the impact but recovered quickly from his less-than-graceful plummet to the floor and dove back behind cover. Jumba did the same, and the two began to exchange volleys of plasma.

It was a stalemate, Jumba realized: both knew exactly where the other was, and from their current position neither of them could move without giving the other a free shot. _Damn it, damn it, damn it! What do I do now? Think, Jumba, THINK! There has to be a way…_

Before Jumba could start planning his escape he was distracted by a door opening above him. It was hard to see, but he saw what looked like a little brown person in a red dress duck into the room. Before he could take a second look they were gone, and Jumba turned his attention back to the matter at hand.

It wasn’t like whoever it was really mattered in the grand scheme of things, like as not.

The two experiments kept swinging at each other, and this time it was Leroy that had the upper hand. 626 wanted to kick himself: _why_ , in the three years he’d been either in training or in the Armada, did he never learn basic stave-fighting?

He grunted with exertion as he pushed Leroy’s stave out of the way. _Well, no time for that now_. All he knew was that he had to end things fast: his arms already felt like they were made of jelly, and if their dance continued much longer things would only get very bad.

A glancing thrust got Leroy to step far enough aside that he could dive past him and take a few moments to rest. _I need to end this now._ If he wanted to emerge from this alive, Leroy would need to be taken out as soon as possible.

He lowered the stave and gripped it with all the strength left in his right arms, took as solid a stance as he could, and waited.

Leroy grinned, flushed with his imagined victory and the praise master would heap on him, and lunged towards 626 to finish him off, stave raised high above his head.

626 ducked, took a deep breath, and readied himself for what was next.

The seconds seemed to slow down to an eternity and Leroy’s advance seemed like it lasted an hour. Finally, at the last moment, 626 moved.

He rolled forwards and dropped to one knee. Leroy was right on top of him. 626 jabbed upwards before it could react with all his strength.

The stave went upwards, weaker and slower than 626 would have liked, and had Leroy been able to bring his own stave to bear 626’s last attack would have been batted away like nothing.

It was not able to before the stave thrust upwards and pierced its left eye.

626 had intended to drive the stave all the way through and out the back, delivering what would hopefully be a fatal strike, but he had to admit: this did the job almost as well. Leroy yelled out in pain like a wounded animal as it ripped 626’s weapon out and threw it down to the floor below, damaged eye socket bleeding profusely as it clamped a paw over it.

Panting from exhaustion, 626 struggled to his feet while Leroy used its free paws to grab its stave and ready for another lunge.

“STOP!” A tiny voice cried out.

Leroy immediately froze and 626 whirled around to face the newcomer. 626’s eyes widened. _No. Why? Why are YOU here?_

Lilo stood in the middle of the catwalk, Spon gaping at her slack-jawed as she walked towards the two experiments.

Astonishingly, she was smiling. “It’s okay. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapters.


End file.
